For Want Of A Nail
by prhood
Summary: Darcy's horse casts a shoe while riding to Pemberley which causes him to miss encountering Elizabeth Bennet who is touring the estate. Thus he is unable to show her his change in behaviour, fails to learn of her improved opinion of him, fails to meet the Gardiners, and fails to learn what happens to Lydia. (Updates on hold for a week or two)
1. Chapter 1

Prologue

 _ **August 1812 - Derbyshire**_

I welcome you to this tale with the earnest hope that you will enjoy its telling; however, it is only fair, I believe, to warn my readers – for I hope there to be more than a solitary soul – that I ascribed most devotedly to that precept handed down by Miss Jane Austen a few years ago and so aptly purveyed when she wrote "Let other pens dwell on guilt and misery, I quit such odious subjects as soon as I can, impatient to restore everybody not greatly in fault themselves to tolerable comfort, and have done with all the rest."

If it is your hope - or expectation - to find from this story such misery and unhappiness as is frequently so thoroughly described in other stories such that two or three chapters are insufficient for its fullest exploration, and, if such is, in your estimation, a prerequisite for an enjoyable tale, I beg of you to desist from reading further; for most assuredly, you will find little enjoyment on the pages that follow. It is, as I have stated, a simple tale, possessed of moments of happiness and unhappiness although, I trust, in measures to favour the first condition rather more than the latter. If your tastes are such as to prefer that which is dramatic or precarious, you will, I fear, also be disappointed. There are no pirates, no bandits, no dreary old castles with or without secret passageways, no misadventures and no narrow escapes from death or such perilous adventures as might raise concerns as to the life and safety of our hero or heroine or even their close acquaintances. After suffering through such disclaimers, I do not doubt that you wish to know what the tale does contain but, having insured that you begin with no false expectations; I will indulge my own preference and allow you to discover that for yourself.

Our tale begins with a young man suffering two most unfortunate events although it was many years before he was to realize that the second had even occurred.

Fitzwilliam Darcy was but an hour out of the Inn and only three from arriving at his home, Pemberley, when his horse began to limp. It was a matter of a minute to determine that one of the shoes was loose, two nails having been lost and the remainder loosened. It was the work of but a few minutes to remove the shoe altogether. After a brief curse directed at the stable from which the horse had been rented, he began to consider his situation. The small village that he had just passed through did not possess a smith as far as he could recollect but the next one, being somewhat larger, might well have one. With a resigned shrug, he began the walk in that direction leading his horse. If he was fortunate, the smith would be able to start immediately and he might well make Pemberley by mid-afternoon; but if the smith had pressing business, he would do well to arrive before dark.

As it turned out, he was fortunate in that the village did have a smith but there his luck ended since the man had been called to a neighbouring estate to attend a problem there and could not be expected to return for several hours. The next nearest smith was at least two hours walk distant and there were no assurances that he would be immediately available. The only sensible option was to wait and, although it pained him to sit so idle; he had little or no recourse. He could, he thought, console himself with the absence of Miss Bingley. To avoid her company had been one of the reasons he travelled ahead of his company – his excuse of having business with his steward, while not false, was a slight fabrication as that business alone could not justify his departure. Now he must simply wait.

It was nearing dark before he finally arrived at Pemberley, to be greeted, with some surprise, by Mrs. Reynolds.

"I did not expect you until tomorrow, sir. I shall have hot water sent to your room within the half hour. Do you wish a tray of food?"

"A bath would be a delight, I assure you Mrs. Reynolds. The food as well."

"Is the rest of the company close behind you, sir? I had not expected you until tomorrow mid-day, but the rooms are prepared now."

"I rode on ahead of the others. I would have been here hours ago but my horse threw a shoe and it took some time to find a smith to fit him with a new one."

They walked in companionable silence towards the stairs and Mrs. Reynolds was about to go about her business when Darcy asked casually, "Anything of interest that I should know about, Mrs. Reynolds?"

"No, sir. It has been very peaceful, very quiet here. Having some company will be a pleasure."

"Well, a part of my company is Mr. Bingley's sisters." Darcy knew that the previous visits by those ladies had not left a favourable impression on his housekeeper.

"Mr. Bingley is a most amiable visitor, sir."

"Hhhhmmm"

"Oh, I should mention we had some visitors today to view the house and grounds. If your horse had not lost a shoe, you would likely have encountered them. A very pleasant, genteel couple accompanied by a young lady. Their niece, I believe. She apparently can claim a slight acquaintance with you, although she did not presume upon it in any way."

"Do you remember their names, Mrs. Reynolds?" Darcy wondered who the young lady could be. He was not aware of any of his acquaintance who were travelling in Derbyshire and it must be a slight acquaintance otherwise he was sure that they would have informed him of their travel plans. He wondered that they had not left a card.

Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of a maid and a footman with whom Mrs. Reynolds quickly turned her attention, giving them such directions as were necessary for the preparation of her master's bath and meal. As she spoke to them, Darcy continued his progress up the stairs towards his chambers. Mrs Reynolds, her thoughts already turning to other matters, gave little thought to her answer.

"No sir. I believe the couple were a Mr. and Mrs. Garden or Gardiner. I am not sure. I did not learn the young lady's name."

"That is unfortunate or perhaps not. One never knows with visitors. I certainly do not include any Gardiners amongst my acquaintance. I think it quite unlikely that I would have known them." He spoke over his shoulder as he continued to mount the steps, "Please send that tray to my room as soon as possible. I find myself quite hungry indeed."

It is unfortunate that Mrs. Reynolds was so distracted as to forget the young lady's name and, when she did remember it later that evening, she saw no reason to bring it to Darcy's attention. The young lady had, after all, not intimated that her acquaintance was of any significance and her master had asserted that he did not know the other members of the party. Within four and twenty hours it was doubtful that she would have even remembered the name, if anyone had been interested enough to ask – which they were not.

I am sure that you are all aghast at such misfortune and blindness but such is fate and our hero and heroine – for indeed she was that very same young lady with whom he was acquainted – were rarely ever to be in such close contact to one another for many years. True, they may have been closer in distance whilst both were in London at the same time; however, when such was the case, they were separated by marriage and station so as to preclude any happy meeting and, as well, by ignorance as to the presence of the other. The five miles that separated Lambton and Pemberley was of little significance if Darcy had known of her presence. Unhappily for them both, he did not and they were not to meet again for many years and thus our story really begins.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 1**

 _ **May - London, 1820**_

"Papa, might we stop at Gunter's for an ice?"

Darcy looked down at his daughter – so much like her mother in looks and tastes – smiled and teased her in return, "You would deprive me of the pleasure of visiting the bookstore?"

If she had been older, he doubted not that a roll of her eyes would have greeted his sally; however, being but five, the delay in having her wishes granted usually only produced a pout. She had yet to learn the enjoyment of reading by herself although she had yet to lose the habit, gained early in her life, of climbing into his lap with a book for him to read to her. It was a pleasure they both enjoyed and she was not loathe to avail herself of his lap any time she found him sitting. He chuckled at the memory of his Aunt Matlock's countenance when Ann-Marie had invaded his library one afternoon while his aunt was visiting. Bearing a large book, Ann-Marie had commanded his lap and his attention to have a story read. His aunt had been quite overset to have him comply with his daughter's demand. That her conversation had to be delayed some quarter hour until the story was finished bothered neither himself nor Ann-Marie. His aunt on the other hand…

"I must stop at Anderson's for a few minutes. He has finally received several volumes that I ordered several months past." He smiled down at her, "We shall also look for some story books for you while we are there. I promise."

A pair of twinkling brown eyes looked up at him. "And you can read it to me when we get home."

It was not a request. His eyebrows rose.

"Will you read it to me when we get home, pleeeese?" she amended.

The interrogative lift of her eyebrow reminded him of his wife once more; however, it no longer led to the twinge of loss or at least the pain of that loss had been muted.

He nodded his head. His daughter skipped a couple of steps in anticipation.

"It will be but a few scant minutes." He assured her. "The stop, that is. As for reading to you, I shall do so before you go to bed."

She nodded, skipped a few steps and looked up at him once more. "Shall you tell me a story? About when you were a little boy?"

He assumed a thoughtful air, added a touch of hesitation to his voice and aid, "Well…maybe…"

"Pleeeze….about when you played at Pembly…Pemberley?"

He had no intention of refusing her. "Very well, but only one story after I read to you and then you must go to bed."

She smiled and nodded once more.

"Will we visit the park tomorrow, Papa?"

He was saved from answering immediately by the need to open the door to the bookstore for his daughter. She, not recognizing that he would not wish to answer in such a public location, had stopped to await his response. After obtaining his agreement, she allowed him to lead her to browse amongst the displays adjoining the entranceway where several books for children were on display. After spending a quarter hour as they leafed through those which he thought might interest her, a selection of two books were agreed upon. Reposing their care to her arms, Darcy strolled towards the counter where Mr. Anderson, who had noticed his appearance, was bringing out a package from under the counter. A few minutes later, his new acquisitions reviewed and paid for, he observed his daughter already immersed in one of her acquisitions.

He stepped to her side and asked, "Is it a good story?"

He had startled her and she jumped slightly which caused him to chuckle, "It must be a good book, to capture your interest so thoroughly and quickly."

Embarrassed she laughed and pointed to a picture in the book, "Look, she looks like Aunt Georgie!"

"So she does." The girl in the picture was dressed in an elaborate 'princess' gown and had long blonde hair. She brought the page closer to her face before stating emphatically, "Aunt Georgie is much prettier!"

"I agree. Much, much prettier."

"I wish I had hair like Aunt Georgie."

"You have your mother's hair, Ann-Marie and that is, I assure you, quite beautiful and suits you perfectly."

Even now, two years later, mention of her mother could cause a fleeting feeling of sorrow. Ann-Marie had only scant memories of her mother and those memories were fading with time. He felt the need to lift his own mood immediately. "Shall we remove ourselves to Gunter's, then? It is just down the street."

Her response was quick and the prospect was viewed with anticipation. It took some few minutes longer than expected for them to walk the several blocks to Gunter's. Bond Street was not unusually busy but their progress was not unimpeded. The Darcys were not frequent visitors to London, preferring to spend much of the year at their country estate – Pemberley – but his circle of acquaintances was too wide to allow them to escape unnoticed in such a public venue. The attention was perhaps more annoying to him than to his daughter who seemed to view acquaintances with ill-disguised interest. His reserve was a trait that she had not inherited and neither of them found cause to regret its absence.

Finally, he could usher her into Gunter's. Their release by that last acquaintance had produced a relieved sigh by him and a puzzled look from his daughter. Their footman, who had accompanied them silently throughout their excursion, took his usual position just outside the door of Gunter's.

"Papa, why did those ladies wish you to call on them? And why were you frowning at them?"

"I was not frowning, Ann-Marie. I was trying to…ah, discourage their interest."

"What interest, Papa? I do not understand."

"And I hope you do not for many years, Ann-Marie. Many years!"

She made no answer but any interest she might have harboured in pursuing the question disappeared as he seated her at an empty table. Darcy took the opposing seat which, as usual, gave him a view of the entire room. He could not answer for this preference but he always felt uncomfortable and exposed unless his back was to a wall and he could see all before him. His attention, in this instance, was captured by the appearance of a waiter to take their order which was quickly and easily done.

Ann-Marie was almost bouncing in her seat waiting for hers to arrive and, when it did, had no thought other than to consume her treat as expeditiously as possible. Fortunately she was a child who preferred to prolong the enjoyment by eating slowly. His attention, now that his daughter was diverted, was to scan his surroundings and take the measure of those who were also enjoying Gunter's delicacies. His sharp intake of breath which he could not control drew his daughter's attention. Darcy knew not what his countenance betrayed but, if it mirrored his thoughts, his perturbation must be obvious to everyone. He was as if paralyzed. His daughter's lips moved. He was sure she had spoken but he heard nothing. She grasped his arm and the alarm in her voice as she exclaimed, "Papa!" returned him to himself.

"Papa, what is wrong?"

He could hardly form the words, "Nothing…..Nothing is wrong!"

She shook her head in denial and looked towards where his eyes remained fixed. A woman accompanied by a young boy of about five years – Ann-Marie could only guess at his age but he looked of an age with herself - had entered the shop and taken a table almost adjoining their own. She was speaking to the boy as she placed a few parcels on a chair and seated herself. The ever-present waiter had barely given her time to sit before soliciting their orders. Her son – Ann-Marie thought he must be her son since the resemblance between them was marked – must have said something amusing because her laugh – low and pleasant – could be heard even several tables removed. She was an extremely attractive woman and seemed vaguely familiar.

"Do you know that lady, Papa?"

Her father's answer was so soft as to be almost unheard. "Oh yes."

He made as to rise from the table and the awkwardness of his movement disturbed his daughter and also attracted the attention of the woman on whom his attention was fixed. Her response was as startling to Ann-Marie as her father's. The woman's sharp gasp was audible, even from where Ann-Marie sat, and she grasped the table seemingly to steady herself. Her son, on the other hand, simply looked bewildered as Ann-Marie. Darcy marvelled that his mind had noted such a triviality.

Darcy had finally managed to control his reaction and, after a brief – very brief – pause, he had moved towards the woman. A few quick steps brought him to her side. His quick bow was acknowledged by a small inclination of her head. Darcy could read little from her countenance although he rather guessed that she was as disconcerted as he. Ann-Marie heard her father speak.

"Miss….Bennet…I am sorry, I know that is no longer your name and, to my regret, I have forgotten your husband's name."

"Mr. Darcy, I am…my husband's name was Waring."

Darcy was not sure what he wanted to do next but the need to speak with her once more was too strong to ignore. He had not missed her use of 'was' – her husband had died then although he had not learned of it till now. He noted that she was not wearing mourning clothes. "I am sorry to hear of your husband's passing. I have suffered a similar loss. My own wife died two years ago."

Elizabeth nodded, "My condolences, Mr. Darcy. Mrs. Collins informed me of her passing."

"Will you and your son not join my daughter and me? We have just arrived ourselves and have only begun to eat. Your company would please me greatly."

Elizabeth was not yet in full control of her thoughts. What could he mean by asking her to sit with him? She had not thought of him for years and had heard little of him since their parting at Hunsford some eight years ago. For some reason, her friend Charlotte Collins felt compelled to share with her those small pieces of information that had been imparted to her. Elizabeth's delay in responding caused Darcy to step back and say, "Forgive me. I have intruded. Please accept my apologies."

His movement to return to his table was halted by her words, "No! Please! I would...we would be delighted to join you and your daughter."

Collecting her parcels they moved awkwardly to the table where Ann-Marie sat gazing at her father with a rather befuddled look. Today they had encountered several young women and toward none of them had he behaved as he was now doing. To them his manner, while polite, was hardly welcoming.

Darcy introduced his daughter, and Elizabeth, her son – David. Conversation was as awkward as could be expected between two people separated by eight years and an angry last parting. Darcy felt the need to find out more of her situation.

"Mrs. Waring, I perhaps have the advantage of you. I still visit my aunt at Rosings once a year. Mr. Collins remains my aunt's rector, as you undoubtedly know. I am glad to hear that your father is still healthy."

"Yes, he is; although this past winter was hard on him."

"I was sorry to hear that your mother had passed on. Mrs. Collins mentioned it to me a years or two ago." He gave a rueful shake of his head and continued, "I am sure that it is no surprise to you that I remember Mr. Collins being more distressed that your father lived although he made an effort to hide it."

Elizabeth gave a sharp laugh that contained little mirth, "I am sure your observations are quite accurate, Mr. Darcy."

"Well, I can...we can hope that his tenure at Hunsford lasts some years more. I cannot imagine such a man as Mr. Collins as master of an estate."

"My cousin has married a sensible woman. I believe Longbourn will be in good hands. They have a son that I have not met but Charlotte seems to think well of him."

"I met him last year. He appears to be sensible enough – a credit to Mrs. Collins, I am sure."

Elizabeth felt all the discomfort of their situation but certain civilities must be made. "I wish to extend my condolences, Mr. Darcy. Charlotte informed me of your wife's passing." She made a quick glance at Ann Marie before continuing, "Once more, it seems, you have the charge of raising a young girl by yourself – nay, I forgot - you have a younger daughter as well." She found she could not continue. She knew nothing of his sister's situation. What little information she had received about Mr. Darcy had come from Charlotte and beyond his marriage, the birth of his children and the death of his wife, she knew little. She suspected that Charlotte had told him little more about her. His next words confirmed her supposition.

"Mrs. Collins was kind enough to inform me of your marriage. She spoke highly of your husband. I can only guess how much you must regret his passing."

Elizabeth gazed fondly at her son, "He was an excellent man and his loss would have been greater except he left me with a fine son and a daughter. I was very fortunate!" She looked at Ann Marie and smiled, "I believe you are as well. Charlotte has spoken fondly of you, Miss Darcy, in her letters. She was most impressed."

Ann Marie could not help but return Mrs. Waring's smile but before she could respond, young David Waring who had been sitting a little restlessly throughout the conversation could restrain himself no further.

"Mama, you promised we could visit the sweets shop!"

"David, you know better than to ask in such a fashion. A gentleman does not whine."

"I am sorry, Mama." David noticed Ann-Marie smirking and sent a glare at her which only increased the smirk he faced.

"Ann-Marie!" Darcy's voice was sharp. He also had notice his daughter's smirk and was happy to see it suddenly disappear at his sharp warning. Ann-Marie, ever quick to deflect her father's displeasure, asked, "Will we not also stop at a sweet shop? Helen might wish to have a treat also."

Darcy shook his head, "We have discussed this already." And noticing Elizabeth hesitate to ask a question, volunteered, "Helen is my other daughter. she is but two and home with her nurse."

Ann Marie smiled at the sound of Mrs. Waring's laughter. It was genuine and she had not heard its like since…since her mother died. That realization suddenly filled her eyes with tears. Fortunately, she thought, no one had noticed and busied herself with her treat until the desire to cry had passed.

David leaned towards his mother and whispered to her. She sent a disapproving look at him and said, "It is quite impolite to whisper when in company as we are now, David. If something cannot be said where all can hear it, then it should not be said at all." She raised an eyebrow and waited for his response.

Darcy could see the boy was reluctant to repeat whatever he had said and he had opened his mouth to relieve him of the obligation where David finally blurted, "I was wondering when you met Mr. Darcy. I have never met him, have I?"

Darcy could see that his daughter was as interested in the answer as Elizabeth's son and took upon himself the office of explaining some portion of their shared history.

"Mrs. Waring and I met before either of us was married. We last saw each other in Hunsford – which is in Kent - about eight years ago."

"And you have not met since then, Papa?"

""No, we have not. Providence did not place Mrs. Waring in my path till now."

Elizabeth's eyebrow rose, "Providence, Mr. Darcy?"

"Providence, Mrs. Waring! Good fortune that she did so now, I believe." His tone was very firm.

Elizabeth made no response but, conscious of his close scrutiny, made no effort to hide her interest at his words. She had mourned the manner of her refusal of his offer of marriage although she had never repented the decision itself. But she had come to realize, in the months immediately following his proposal, that he was a much better man than she had given him credit for – his letter, her visit to Pemberley and the recommendations of his housekeeper there, had accomplished that much. His manner today was such as to recommend him as well. That he viewed their meeting as fortuitous was to be savoured. Nevertheless, she was caught by surprise by his next words.

"I see that our children have finished their treats. We must both, I would assume, be about our business." His pause was brief, lasting but a few moments, "I would…I wish to see you again, Mrs. Waring. Are you to be in Town much longer?"

"Yes, I plan to stay for another month before going to Longbourn to visit my father for a fortnight."

"Might I inquire as to where you are living?"

"I am staying with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. They live on Gracechurch Street." If there was a challenge in her tone, Darcy chose to ignore it. It mattered not to him where she was living or with whom she lived. As long as he could call on her, and that he must now determine.

"May I call on you there?"

Elizabeth's hesitation was too brief to be noticed by any but the most careful observer; her smile held some warmth as she said, "I would be pleased to receive you, Mr. Darcy." She paused and looked at him reflectively, "Quite pleased."

The two children had listened to these exchanges with little interest. If they had been older they would have recognized that Mrs. Waring's response had pleased him greatly. It would have been obvious from the warmth of his gaze and the small smile that curled his lips. Ann-Marie knew he was acting oddly but the reason for it was beyond her understanding. All too soon she had finished her and it was time to depart.

They all rose from the table and began to collect their individual parcels. Elizabeth agreed to receive his call the following afternoon and provided the address but declined the offer of his carriage to carry her and her son home. "My uncle's carriage is waiting for us now to carry us to the sweet shop, Mr. Darcy. But I thank you for the offer."

"Then I will take my leave until tomorrow."

Their parting was all that was amiable although Darcy did not relinquish her company until she had entered her carriage and departed. He turned to find his daughter's gaze fixed sternly upon him which he pretended not to see and scanned the street for sign of his own carriage. Fortunately for his composure, it had been waiting down the street and was already moving towards them. He was hardly of a mind to answer any questions raised by his daughter for he had too many of his own to ponder. At least, he thought, Ann-Marie would not be overly curious and such questions as she might have were more than likely to be forgotten before they arrived home.

And thus we may safely leave Mr. Darcy and Mrs. Waring for the nonce. While the temptation is strong to ignore all that happened in the past to bring them to their current state, it would be remiss of me to do so and leave such questions unaddressed, for surely they will arise as our hero and heroine – strange though it may be to call a man of five and thirty, a hero; and a woman of eight and twenty, a heroine; such they are and such they will be for the remainder of this tale – become more closely acquainted. I will endeavour, in the chapters that follow, to plot the course that each followed to arrive at this point and hope that the telling will both entertain and illuminate.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 2

 ** _1812_**

While I would hope that all who have ventured this short distance into my tale are familiar with those misunderstandings and misbehaviours that characterized the history of Miss Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy prior to their near-meeting at Pemberley in the summer of year 1812, I cannot assume it to be so and will here attempt a brief outline of the same and hope that the repetition will not bore you unduly. Should you wish to skip blithely ahead to the next chapter, take comfort that you are most likely not alone and that no one will ever know that you have done so.

Mr. Darcy first made the acquaintance of Miss Bennet when he ventured into her home county, Hertfordshire, to visit a friend, Mr. Charles Bingley, who had leased the Netherfield estate which lay within three miles of the Longbourn estate wherein lived the Bennet family. Mr. Darcy was possessed of those attributes most likely to make him attractive to the gentler sex: a fine, tall figure, handsome features and a noble mien. That he was wealthy only fixed more firmly the general approbation of the neighbourhood until his manners gave a disgust which turned the tide of his popularity; for they soon found him to be proud, to be above his company, above being pleased and possessed of a most disagreeable countenance. All this was revealed when he, at the urging of his friend, attended a country assembly where he was to see Miss Elizabeth Bennet for the first time.

Darcy had not been in her presence for more than a few hours when he, unknowingly, had cause to insult her most grievously – an insult which she had the misfortune to overhear - and the very poor opinion she formed of him from that moment was buttressed quite thoroughly by his display of pride, conceit and a general disdain for all those not of his immediate party. Such behaviour was not unusual for Darcy; he truly gave little consideration for the thoughts or well-being of those he considered beneath him and for whom he held no responsibility. For his part, he thought poorly of her at first but, over the following weeks, his opinion changed gradually as to fix his interest on her; although, mindful that her disadvantages – her connections were poor; her dowry, non-existent; and members of her family prone to display the most improper behaviour in public – were such as to make it impossible, in his mind, for any display of his interest to be made known to her or to a wider public. As he had, in the past, been the object of many a young woman more interested in his wealth, estate and status than in his character, he had come to believe that all women were of a like mind. That Miss Caroline Bingley, sister of the friend with whom he was visiting, had similar ambitions and behaved, in the past and during his current visit, in the most forward of manner to attach his interest, greatly tried both his patience and civility but also more forcefully made clear the difference in behaviour between the two ladies, much to the advantage of Miss Elizabeth Bennet.

Such was the disapprobation of Darcy held by Elizabeth Bennet that, when a man with all the appearance of a gentleman – and even now the name brings a scowl to my face – by the name of George Wickham arrived to take employment with the _shire Militia and undertook to spin her a tale of misfortune and mistreatment by one Fitzwilliam Darcy, it was believed without reservation and removed the last remaining traces of approbation held by her in regards of Mr. Darcy who was now proven to not only be proud, disagreeable and disdainful of others but dishonourable as well.

While Darcy was doing as much as lay within his power to avoid changing Elizabeth's disapproval, Mr. Bingley had paid such attentions to Elizabeth's older sister, Jane, from the first moment of their acquaintance so as to earn her most tender regard. A young woman who combined great beauty, common sense, and a willingness to believe everyone as good and kind as herself, Jane Bennet - perhaps as a means of protecting her sensibilities from the effusions of a mother whose primary goal was to arrange a most advantageous marriage for her daughter - had developed a reserve and serenity of countenance as to quite hide her feelings from all but the closest and most discerning observer. Perhaps only Elizabeth knew the true depth of her feelings and, although Mr. Bingley may have gained some awareness, his own natural modesty prevented him from attaching as much credit to that knowledge as he could, or should, have done. For Mr. Bingley was yet a young man, not over three and twenty years of age and possessed of such amiable qualities as to earn him friends wherever he might venture; however, that modesty, which I noted above, was such as to make him repose a great deal of confidence in the opinions and advice of Darcy and this confidence he had never had any reason to question.

Unfortunately for them both, that reserve and serenity of countenance possessed by Jane Bennet quite convinced Darcy that her affections had not been awarded to his friend and this, in conjunction those other considerations of dowry, connections and the improprieties of her family inherent in her situation, convinced Darcy, when his friend had cause to travel to London, to join him there for the purpose of severing the attachment to Jane Bennet. In this task Darcy was supported by Bingley's sisters who had aspirations of rising to a higher level in society and such hopes were not likely to be achieved by their brother's marriage to a young lady who lacked both fortune and connections. Their intent being to dissuade their brother from pursuing his interest in Miss Bennet, they willingly joined their efforts with those of Darcy to this end. It is doubtful that any consideration would have worked upon Bingley other than the fact that his closest friend believed Jane Bennet to be indifferent to him. Bingley chose to credit such assertions, decided not to return to Hertfordshire and Jane Bennet was left to repine in the acutest of misery attached to disappointed hopes.

Darcy himself desired to remove himself from Hertfordshire in order to separate himself from Elizabeth Bennet and what he understood to be his growing attraction for her. Her circumstances conflicted totally with those considerations of wealth, status, connections and propriety which he had long believed to be essential in any woman with whom he allowed himself to become attached and the conflict between his expectations and his wishes was such that he feared a victory by the latter unless he removed himself from her presence. Time and distance would, he was sure, allow the memories of Elizabeth to fade along with the attraction to her that he harboured.

On Elizabeth's part, she missed Darcy not at all. She had more pressing concerns to plague her for some weeks. A distant cousin, William Collins, heir to Longbourn and a rather stupid and obsequious gentleman – which is quite a charitable description of him - had visited the Bennet family with the intention of taking one of Mr. Bennet's five daughters as his wife. In such an aspiration, he was willingly aided by Mrs. Bennet who first dissuaded him against Jane – whom she thought might attach Mr. Bingley – and found no objections when he directed his attentions to her next eldest daughter, Elizabeth. His subsequent proposal and her refusal quite overset Mrs. Bennet; an appeal by her to Mr. Bennet proved unavailing and Mr. Collins was so discouraged by the whole business as to, within two days, propose to, and be accepted by, Charlotte Lucas who, although Elizabeth's closest friend, was also seven and twenty and in danger of never finding a husband and independence from her family. Their marriage followed in a matter of weeks and Charlotte left Hertfordshire to take up residence at Hunsford Parsonage in the county of Kent where Mr. Collins held a clerical living given him by Lady Catherine de Bourgh who, coincidentally, was sister to Darcy's deceased mother and aunt to Darcy.

This connection proved fortuitous, although one hesitates to so describe the events that followed. Mrs. Collins' request that Elizabeth visit her over Easter at her new home was eventually agreed to, although not without some misgivings, and to Hunsford, Elizabeth did go, accompanied by Charlotte's father and younger sister. Lady Catherine was found to be all that she had expected: self-important, domineering and gifted with the greatest desire and ability to condescend to everyone and to provide advice on any matter within her purview, on most of which she possessed little knowledge. Unfortunately for Elizabeth's peace of mind, Darcy and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam visited their aunt, Lady Catherine, for some weeks during Elizabeth's visit and was thrown much into her company. Elizabeth saw nothing in Darcy's behaviour to change her opinion of him; however, he quickly found himself more enamoured of her than ever. His initial attempt to avoid her company lasted but a week and then he began to seek her out, whilst she was out walking, in order to court her interest. It is a testament to his demeanour that his interest in Miss Bennet quite escaped the notice of his aunt or his cousin, the Colonel.

Unfortunately for his suit, all of his attention was directed to overcoming his own objections to a possible match and none of it to winning the lady's approval which he assumed he had; for he had come to believe, by dint of the interest shown in him by the usual collection of ladies pursuing him, that any lady would be wishing to attach herself to one such as he, possessed of both wealth and status. Her interest, her compliance he assumed to exist. Mayhap he misunderstood her lively manner as flirtatious. Unfortunately, Elizabeth's dislike of him was augmented when Colonel Fitzwilliam inadvertently revealed Darcy's role in separating Bingley from her sister, Jane. Elizabeth's anger was monumental and the exquisite as Darcy chose that same evening to make her an offer of marriage and couched it in such terms as to speak more of the degradation he had to overcome, the poverty of her connections and the impropriety of her family, than of his affections. Such treatment served only to further fuel Elizabeth's anger and her refusal was as disdainful of his character as his proposal was of hers, calling into question, as it did, his honour in his treatment of Wickham, his role in separating her sister from his best friend and his treatment and manners to those he considered beneath his notice which, in Hertfordshire, seemed to include just about everyone.

The last meeting between them took place the next day when Darcy handed her a letter which outlined his reasons for acting as he did in the case of Wickham and Bingley. In respect of Wickham, Elizabeth could only be mortified by the revelations of that man's character and misdeeds. With respect to Bingley, if the letter did not absolve Darcy of all responsibility for his actions on behalf of his friend, his motivation - to protect him from entering a marriage where Jane's affections were absent – was, at the least, honourable. She could hardly fault his error in this respect, given her own misjudgement of Darcy's character.

Such thoughts were Elizabeth's constant companion for the months that followed and, while she never repented her decision to refuse Darcy's offer of marriage, she soon enough regretted the manner in which she had done so. That she could not be happy in a marriage with a man of such disagreeable manners and pride was her firm conviction; she thought better of him and had gained some respect for his character, was gratified that he had developed an affection for her but was sure that those objections he had voiced would, given the vehemence of her refusal, soon cause that affection to wither away altogether. That he might renew his addresses, she discounted altogether; for what man will make a second offer for a woman who abused him so dreadfully in rejecting his first offer?

Elizabeth had been invited to accompany her Aunt and Uncle Gardiner who initially had planned a tour of The Lakes but were forced, by circumstances relating to Mr. Gardiner's business, to limit their tour to Derbyshire where Mrs. Gardiner had once lived. Their travels had taken them to Lambton, and, while there, to Pemberley – Mr. Darcy's home – which was but five miles distant. Mrs. Reynolds, Pemberley's housekeeper, had guided their tour of the house and given such a positive account of Darcy as to completely overset many of Elizabeth's opinions of that gentleman. She did not believe herself to be in love with him but regret that she could not know him better was accompanied by a wish to do so.

For Darcy's part, the passage of time and reflection on those charges flung at him by Elizabeth had worked such changes in him as to allow him to accept their justice and to effect such changes in his manners and behaviours as were appropriate. That he might wish to renew their acquaintance, he conceded to himself but that his attentions were still unwelcome by the object of them, he had no reason to doubt. If he had acquitted himself in her eyes in regards of Wickham, against him remained his actions in respect of Bingley and her sister – undoubtedly a barrier, as he knew Jane to be her most beloved sister. He had had little opportunity to be in Bingley's company since leaving Hunsford and he was quite unsure how he wished to proceed in the affair of Jane Bennet. He accepted Elizabeth's assurances in the matter. That she was convinced her sister held Bingley in some regard, he could not question. She must know her sister's heart better than he; however, his advice to Bingley was based on his own observations and conclusions. He could not, in good conscience, advise his friend towards any course of action based on another's opinion. He also could not disclose Elizabeth's opinion without providing a full account of how he came into possession of such knowledge. He knew his friend too well to believe him willing to accept the knowledge otherwise and too perceptive to accept anything less than the truth. Indeed his own honour would not allow him to dissemble in this instance. Darcy could not bear to reveal the humiliation attending his rejected proposal and so his only choice was to convince his friend to return to Netherfield and ascertain the truth of Miss Bennet's affections for himself. Darcy could not bear to face Elizabeth's disapproval once more and therefore knew he could not accompany Bingley. Perhaps if Bingley were to attach himself to Jane Bennet – marry her, in fact – he could come into Elizabeth's presence on occasion. If her attitude towards him was as before, he would have to, in future, avoid her altogether; if it were not, then he could consider renewing his attentions.

Several days after she and the Gardiners had arrived in Lambton, Elizabeth received two letters which caused their rapid departure in order to return to Longbourn and London. The letters, from Jane, disclosed that their sister Lydia, who had accompanied the wife of the Colonel of the _shire Militia when it removed to Brighton, had run off with George Wickham. Lydia's expectation that he would marry her were as misguided as could be expected of a young girl of but fifteen years, who had never learned proper behaviour and had engaged in the little but the most frivolous of activities and flirtations. By the time their carriage rolled to a stop in front of Longbourn, Elizabeth had convinced her relatives of the worthlessness of Wickham and that the prospect of a marriage to Lydia was unlikely in the extreme - Lydia's expectations notwithstanding. The accuracy of her assertions was soon proven as no trace of either could be found and news of a marriage, eagerly though it might be hoped for, was never received. Within days of the news of Lydia's disgrace becoming general knowledge, the Bennet family was being shunned by the neighbourhood. Calls were not accepted nor returned and public conversations were avoided. Mr. Bennet noticed little change – his disposition never being one to take pleasure in company – but his wife and daughters suffered greatly as it soon became clear that, of all their acquaintance, only the Philipses would deign to visit and they only because they were related.

Long before the full implications of Lydia's disgrace had begun to fully weigh down on the residents of Longbourn; Darcy had attempted a private conversation with Bingley on the matter of Jane Bennet. Wishing to find the most appropriate moment, he had, for over a week after their arrival, delayed the interview until finally, recognizing his excuses for what they were, he had broached the subject as they lingered over a late night glass of port. Secure in the knowledge of their privacy, Darcy had opened the subject.

"Charles, have you considered returning to Netherfield?"

Bingley looked at Darcy, surprised and puzzled. Darcy rarely called him Charles and usually only when talking of the most personal of matters. The last time he had done so was when he had cautioned him about Jane Bennet's affection, or rather the lack of it. Was this to be of a similar nature? He took a few moments to collect his thoughts before responding.

"My lease is up at Michaelmas. I had not planned to visit there again. There seems no point, does there?"

"It is a very decent estate, Charles, and conveniently located to town. On those merits alone, it would not be a poor investment."

Bingley considered his friend more closely. This line of conversation puzzled him exceedingly and he made no effort to hide his confusion.

"I do not comprehend your meaning, Darcy. You know very well why I would be reluctant to return. While I cannot say that my affections for Miss Bennet have totally abated, I am, I hope, much more sanguine about her. Nevertheless, I would not wish to be in her company once more and I could not avoid that without being totally uncivil."

"You do retain some feelings for Miss Bennet, then?"

Bingley sat quietly for several minutes canvassing his feelings about Jane Bennet. Finally he admitted, "My feelings, my affections are…I still consider her one of the most delightful women I have met – and certainly the most beautiful."

Darcy did not reply immediately, wondering how he might best pursue the matter, "It is her feelings then that remain at issue?"

"That has always been the only issue, Darcy. You must have realized that!"

"Hmmm. True….and it was my assurances that convinced you?"

"You know that is so! I fail to understand why we are discussing this now."

"I have reason to believe…"

"Yes?" Bingley was feeling a little impatient at the direction of the conversation. It was almost as though his friend was…surely not!

"Darcy, are you saying that you wish me to return to Netherfield? Why?"

Darcy's reply was slow in coming and his hesitation, obvious. "I have…over the past few months…had cause to reconsider my…opinions about Miss Bennet."

"Reconsider? What does that mean? You were quite confident that she did not hold any affection for me. What has changed?"

Darcy was slightly taken aback by his friend's vehemence and to calm matters, rose to refill their glasses and give himself a few moments to consider what to say. Finally he ventured, "It is not so much that I have changed my opinion. How could I? I have not seen Miss Bennet for more than eight months."

"I detect a "but" here, Darcy."

"Darcy gave his friend a brief grin, "True! There is a "but". He noticed Bingley's raised eyebrows and retorted, "Well, I have had…cause to remember my own nature - my reserve, my reticence. How I mask my feelings from others. I began to wonder if Miss Bennet was similarly…afflicted."

"Why would you wonder? What would have led you to such a conclusion?"

Darcy was beginning to wish his friend was less diligent on this matter. He was pressing him harder than he had expected. To reveal Elizabeth's opinion, he could not do unless he was prepared to disclose all the particulars of his rejected proposal. That he would not do. And, while he was prepared to accept that Elizabeth believed her sister to hold Bingley in affection, he himself did not know that to be the case. He also could not be sure how much Elizabeth's own partiality for her sister had biased her opinion and he would not claim of his own knowledge that such affection existed on the part of Jane Bennet. Perhaps he could hedge the matter.

"Charles, you may remember I visited my Aunt in Kent this past Easter. Miss Elizabeth Bennet was visiting her friend, Charlotte Lucas, who had married a Mr. Collins, Miss Bennet's cousin and the rector for my aunt's parish. I had several…conversations with Miss Elizabeth and she indicated that her sister held her feelings very much in reserve."

"And that is the basis for your opinion?"

"That and the fact that Miss Bennet visited London for several months last winter, staying with her relatives in Cheapside."

Bingley sat up, suddenly alert. "Did she? Did she call on my sisters?"

"I believe so."

"And?"

"That is all I know, Charles. You must solicit your sisters for anything more. But it does suggest some degree of interest in maintaining the acquaintance, does it not?"

"Maybe. Maybe. I must talk to Caroline." He looked at Darcy with a touch of asperity in his voice. "You knew of her visit and did not inform me. Why?"

"I was wrong not to have done so and apologize most heartedly. My only excuse is that I was concerned at the time that your feelings for Miss Bennet had not abated sufficiently for you to safely meet her. I believe now that it was wrong of me to withhold this information from you."

Bingley only grunted and a look of displeasure on his countenance remained for some minutes until replaced by one more thoughtful. Further conversation foundered for some minutes on Charles' abstraction and Darcy was content to have it so until finally Charles returned his gaze to Darcy.

"If I should decide to return to Netherfield, I trust you will accompany me."

Darcy knew he could not face Elizabeth again. Her parting words and the disdain in her countenance and voice as she said, "I had not known you a month, before I you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry." were such as to preclude any hope that she would welcome his presence. And to be in her presence was more than he could bear.

It had taken him some time to understand the full sense of those words; but finally he comprehended the truth. While Wickham had indeed blackened his reputation, and his defence had, he hoped, salvaged and repaired that damage, Elizabeth Bennet had decided against him long before she even met Wickham. Her judgement was based on her understanding of his character, his manners and his treatment of those he and society considered his inferiors. She had judged him, found him wanting and rendered her decision – she never wished to see him again. He could only honour her wish. No, a return to Hertfordshire was impossible.

"No, I am sorry Charles, but that will not be possible."

Bingley looked slightly surprised and Darcy fully expected him to ask for a reason. He could claim a need to remain at Pemberley to deal with the needs of the estate, having been away for many months. Bingley surprised him, however, saying, "That does not altogether surprise me. You did not enjoy your time at Netherfield. Your dislike – nay, disdain - of the society was clear to everyone."

Darcy found himself embarrassed at how obvious his incivility had been and was about to apologize when Bingley waved it off.

"It matters not, Darcy."

Emptying his glass, Bingley made as though to rise and Darcy interjected, "Have you decided to return?"

"Hmmm? Return?...No, I have not decided. I must talk to Caroline."

Without further ado, he lurched to his feet, stretched and ambled slowly out of the room, leaving his friend to contemplate their discussion. He was a little surprised that Bingley had not been more enthusiastic about returning to Netherfield; and what was his intent in talking to his sister? After a few more minutes he resolved to simply observe his friend's behaviour and discern if he had reached a decision.

As it turned out, the only further information he was to glean was conveyed by Caroline Bingley who mentioned that her brother had asked about Miss Bennet's visit. Her manner expressed some displeasure in Darcy's role in revealing that such a visit occurred and, when queried about what she had told her brother, smiled archly and escaped without saying anything further. Before he left, Bingley revealed his intention to visit his relatives in the north and Darcy could only suspect that any thoughts of returning to Netherfield had been discarded.

What you may ask was Miss Lydia Bennet's fate. I would not leave you all atwitter with impatience her circumstances. A delicacy of mind forbids that we discuss the particulars of what I suppose to be her fate and I am sure you are all possessed of too much propriety to wish to have them disclosed in all of their particulars. The unfortunate Miss Lydia was deserted by her faithless swain not more than two months after leaving Brighton and the day after her scant funds had been exhausted. Left penniless, alone, lacking any useful skill other than that which she had plied without recompense for Wickham's gratification for two months, too foolish or unable to return to the safety of her family – if she even knew how to reach them – and deserted in one of the most dissolute parts of London, her prospects were as bleak as could be imagined. All too soon the prospect of life even in a poor brothel would be, to her, a blessing as it at least would ensure the availability of food and lodging. In this condition we shall leave her for the nonce and I apologize to my readers for not affording her a more pleasant fate but all too often the choices we make in life preclude happy endings; and, while it may be kind to say that Miss Lydia's mistakes should not have resulted in such a fate, the misery she inflicted upon her family through her own thoughtless and improper behaviour really does not warrant as much sympathy as we are usually wont to supply. Miss Lydia Bennet will, however, intrude on this story at a later point and her situation will, I hope, be made clear then.

The months that followed were surprisingly quiet for our hero and heroine. He remained at Pemberley for the winter, only returning to London in February to escort his sister to his aunt, the Countess, who had agreed to supervise Georgiana's presentation at court and her entry into society.

At Longbourn, the isolation had continued to the point where the Bennet sisters now only infrequently ventured into Meryton where they were treated with minimal civility by all and had forsaken such entertainments as the local assembly altogether. What purpose would be served by their presence at such an event when dancing partners were non-existent? Mr. Bennet seemed impervious to the isolation; his library had always been his refuge and the absence of visitors and entertainments simply allowed him the pleasure of spending more time there. His words, when he returned following his futile search for his daughter, were telling. On Elizabeth's expressing her sorrow for what he had endured, he replied, "Say nothing of that. Who should suffer but myself? It has been my own doing, and I ought to feel it. Let me, for once in my life, feel how much I am to blame. I am not afraid of being overpowered by the impression. It will pass away soon enough."

And so it proved to be. To his daughters' distress, he remained completely oblivious and, to that of his wife, he might well appear pleased. For Mrs. Bennet, such isolation was of the cruelest nature. Her great pleasures were to find husbands for her daughters and to gossip. Denied both such gratifications, she, after some months of bewailing the injustices that her husband, her daughters, Mr. Wickham, Colonel Forster and anyone else she could remember, had inflicted upon her, began a slow decline which saw her retire to her rooms more frequently and for a greater duration. By the time six months had passed, she was not in company with her daughters more than two hours a day and the shrill tones of her voice were noticeably absent within the walls of Longbourn. If her spirits were revived when her brother, Mr. Gardiner, and his family visited them over the Christmas season, the improvement did not survive their departure a week later by more than a few days. The Gardiners were not slow to realize the depression of spirits that permeated Longbourn and a plan was quickly devised as to allow each of the four sisters to visit them in London for a month in turn.

In these unhappy states we must leave our hero and heroine and await the next stage in our story. Some unhappy news has to be imparted and actions taken.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 3

 _ **February – April, Longbourn, 1813**_

The winter had not been particularly severe. Spells of cold weather persisted with frequent days with a cold, bitter rain that occasionally produced snow and ice. Weather that, if there were places to go and people to see, would have rendered the activity almost impossible. As there were no places to go and people would not have received them if they had visited, the prospect was even more dismal as there could be no anticipation of an improvement. Elizabeth found the days even more burdensome with the absence of Jane whose turn it was to visit the Gardiners in town. The loss of companionship and conversation could not be made good by any other in the household. Her father remained secluded in his bookroom, her mother in her chambers and Kitty and Mary, despite their efforts, were poor substitutes. Yet she could not begrudge her sister the opportunity to be out in society. If her recent letters were an indication, her spirits had finally recovered from the disappointment that was Mr. Bingley. It was possible, Elizabeth conceded, that her sister's improvement had begun before she left for town, but that she, Elizabeth, had been too much in her company to have been aware of it as familiarity ofttimes does with those whom we are closest.

It was the arrival of two letters, one from her sister and the other from her aunt that produced an almost immediate raising of spirits throughout the house – with one exception – as they contained news of some import. Jane had a suitor! A most worthy gentleman according to her aunt – although polite society will not afford him that distinction - by the name of James Simmons. He was the son of a business associate of Elizabeth's uncle; and had taken charge of his family's business. He was about thirty years of age, possessed of a very respectable income and, most importantly, was unmarried, or, as her mother was once heard to say, in want of a wife.

As Elizabeth opined, while she read the letter to her sisters, "If our aunt is to be trusted – and she has spoken of him much more than Jane attempted in her letter – Mr. Simmons is quite a good-looking man and possessed of most gentlemanly manners. Most important, she assures me, is that he appears quite smitten with our sister. But how could he not be?"

At this point her mother, hearing the happy exclamations of her daughters, had come down to learn the cause of the excitement. She was quickly apprised of the news and her effusions were all that could be expected until she learned that Mr. Simmons made his living from trade which fact caused a reversal in her opinion and sent her directly to her husband's bookroom to persuade him to prevent the acquaintance by whatever means were at his disposal. As Mr. Bennet was not inclined to do so himself, nor to allow her to travel to town to accomplish that purpose, nor allow her to demand her daughter's return, Mrs. Bennet returned to her chambers feeling very much put upon once more.

This bit of excitement had not deterred Elizabeth from continuing to describe the circumstances of Jane's meeting with Mr. Simmons.

"Apparently he encountered them at the theatre over a week ago and asked to call on them the very next day. Aunt says she spoke to Jane after that call, as Jane, in her usual wont, was extremely circumspect in her behaviour – perhaps to the point of not indicating any interest in Mr. Simmons' company. Fortunately, our aunt invited him to dine the following evening – which he was pleased to accept. Aunt Gardiner writes that she canvassed Jane's opinion and, finding her quite disposed towards liking the gentleman, encouraged her to be more forthcoming in expressing her appreciation for his company. She was gratified to see Jane put aside some small portion of her reserve that evening."

Elizabeth stopped to ensure that their mother was not present before saying, "I suspect Jane is more comfortable doing so in the absence of our mother who would happily parade Jane's feelings before the entire world should they be displayed. In any event, Mr. Simmons appears to be quite determined and has called on Jane several times since then. The only sad part of the whole business is that our aunt has requested of my father that Jane's visit be extended to promote the attachment. I cannot complain, although it means that my own visit must be postponed for some time as our father would not encompass the loss of both Jane and me at the same time. I would not by any means wish to suspend Jane's pleasure."

She folded the two letters and rose. "I must speak to father immediately and make him aware of the circumstances."

The progress of Jane's courtship was followed avidly by her three sisters; each letter becoming the subject of discussion until the arrival of the next, and, in the process, lifting their spirits greatly. It was in early April that the news, long expected and greatly desired, was finally imparted.

The day being unseasonably mild with a warmish southerly breeze, Elizabeth had taken Jane's letter to read as she sat in the garden. It could not, she believed, have contained happier news. Her dearest sister was to be wed. James Simmons had made her an offer and she was most happy to accept it. Elizabeth found it hard to credit that the passage of a scant twelve months had worked such a change in her sister's fortunes. Her letter overflowed with such happiness as Elizabeth had never seen her express before. Mr. Bingley had not inspired such profusions of happiness. Her aunt also wrote to provide those details which Jane would not vouchsafe. Suffice it to say that her Aunt Gardiner was pleased with the attachment and assured her that Jane's affections were totally engaged. Elizabeth thought "What matter Charles Bingley now? I am convinced that the man was never worthy of her and that Mr. Darcy may well have done Jane a favour by encouraging her separation from Mr. Bingley."

They were to marry in June; the wedding to take place in London and Elizabeth was to stand with her sister. Their aunt had, at Jane's request, agreed to organize the affair. This, Elizabeth admitted to herself, surprised her greatly as she had thought Jane would wish to be married from Longbourn; however, it appeared that other factors had dissuaded Jane from doing so. Elizabeth suspected that her mother's distaste for Mr. Simmons being in trade – an opinion which she had expressed strongly to all at Longbourn and in letters to Jane and Mrs. Gardiner - had caused Jane to take this step.

Of equal importance, Elizabeth suspected from the tone of Jane's letters, was that she did not want to be forced to recognize and be civil to those who had spurned her and her family for the last few years. Elizabeth could find no fault with this and thought that should she ever, which seemed unlikely, be faced with the decision, she would do likewise. She spoke with their father, who had received a letter from Uncle Gardiner outlining the settlement, and he was quite happy for Jane although Elizabeth suspected he would view her own absence from Longbourn with increasing displeasure. She found it difficult to understand such a concern as he was little in company with her or his family. She now only visited his bookroom to discuss estate matters. Her love for her father had not diminished but she found it increasingly hard to be in his company without feeling greatly aware of his failures in his duty to his family. That he had become increasingly aware of her opinion and discouraged her attendance now appeared obvious. Elizabeth, after some thought, decided that his opinion on that matter, nor her mother's on Jane's marriage, was of any import and she would not allow such thoughts to suppress her joy at Jane's happiness.

Mr. Simmons, Jane and the Gardiners had travelled to Longbourn a week or so after the engagement had been announced. The initiative was at Mr. Simmons instigation. He wished to become acquainted with his betrothed's family and so to Longbourn they came. His reception by Jane's sisters was all that he could have wished for: their expressions of delight at Jane's good fortune; their pleasure in finally meeting him when all they had previously known was learned from letters from their aunt and Jane; and the prospect of being able to visit a married sister in London, only fixed his desirable qualities more firmly in their minds. They were not behind in expressing their approbation. With Elizabeth, in particular, he became quite close, enjoying her lively manner and clever conversation. That she was the favourite sister of his beloved, only enhanced her character in his mind and to her, and her only, was extended an open invitation to visit them whenever she wished to do so.

The separation of more than three months had not been greatly eased by frequent correspondence and that first night, ensconced in Elizabeth's bed, Jane had finally the chance to open her heart to her sister.

"You must tell me all, Jane. Your letters were hardly sufficient."

Jane smiled, "You know I am not as easy a writer as you, Lizzy. I find it difficult to put my thoughts on paper."

"Well I am here now and you may speak as you wish. Any confidences you shared will not pass beyond these walls."

"You know that our uncle and aunt usually take me to the theatre when I visit. We went to see 'Love's Labour Lost'. The theatre was, as usual, quite a crush and it took us some time to move to our seats. As we did so, a gentleman approached claiming an acquaintance with uncle and, in fact, proved to be the son of a man with whom uncle had done much business in the past and, having recognized uncle, wished to renew his acquaintance. We were prevented from talking overmuch at that time since the bells signalling the start of the performance began to ring. Mr. Simmons did come upon us during the intermission and talked with aunt and myself for some time while uncle was getting us some refreshments."

"He called on us the next day – it seems that our aunt gave him the address – and we spent a most enjoyable half hour conversing on a variety of subjects. He was a most interesting gentleman and I found his company very pleasant and most agreeable. To my surprise – although aunt did not appear to be so – he asked, before he left, if he could call on me. I was quite flustered – I had certainly no expectation of such a request - but managed to express my willingness to receive him. He called several times thereafter – almost daily in truth – and was invited to dine. I greatly enjoyed his conversation; we talked of so many things. You know when I consider Mr. Bingley, as amiable as I found him; his conversation was not as interesting. I quite found myself reading books I would not have thought to even open so as to be able to contribute to our conversations. Mr. Bingley never talked of his business and only rarely of his family. Mr. Simmons is very proud of his background and not afraid to talk about his family and their business. I quite enjoyed the experience and when he asked for my opinion on a few matters, I found that I could give one and he would discuss it with me. It was…oh, so very different from what I had become accustomed to here at Longbourn. It seemed much similar to how our aunt and uncle deal with one another. I found my respect for Mr. Simmons growing with every encounter. He is quite amiable but very decided in his opinions although I believe him to be careful in forming them. I have come to appreciate such firmness and decisiveness."

"He seems like a very fine gentleman and I applaud your choice of a husband. I think you will do very well together. He is not as handsome as Mr. Bingley but I am most favourably impressed by his character. He reminds me very much of our Uncle Gardiner in manners and comportment."

"I will not have you speak so of my future husband, Lizzy." Laughed Jane, "It is true that my first impression of Mr. Simmons was that he was rather plain-featured – I am afraid I even said as much to our aunt; but the more I was in his company, the more pleased I became with his countenance. I now find him quite attractive and wonder that I had ever thought otherwise."

Mr. Bennet's approbation was easily won. Satisfied that the gentleman was clearly enamoured of his daughter, that his income was more than sufficient – superior to Longbourn's, in fact, and sufficient to assist in the care of Mrs. Bennet when her husband died - to support a wife and family; he was happy to sign the marriage settlement, knowing that his Brother Gardiner would have ensured that Jane was protected. Once his blessing was issued, he was content to retire to his bookroom and if Mr. Simmons had hopes of establishing a closer relationship with Jane's father, he was to be disappointed.

Mrs. Bennet's approbation was not to be won however. If she was persuaded by both husband and brother to moderate her objections, her manner clearly signalled her dissatisfaction and the unhappy recipient of her displeasure was not Jane but Elizabeth. By whatever process of reasoning that was employed, which no one else could fathom, Mrs. Bennet spared no opportunity to protest that she had been ill-used by everyone and, in particular, her second oldest daughter who, if she had married Mr. Collins as was her duty to her family, none of the unpleasantness – and everyone was left to presume that Jane's marriage must be included in that list – would have occurred, for surely Lydia would not have felt compelled to elope had the security of her dear mother been assured. Such were her lamentations that finally Mrs. Gardiner and Jane persuaded her to retire to her chambers. It was with no small relief to everyone that she remained there for most of the three day visit by Mr. Simmons, only presenting herself at meals.

When Mr. Simmons, Jane and the Gardiners returned to town, life at Longbourn resumed its normal patterns.

 _ **June - London, 1813**_

We find our Mr. Darcy standing alone – well, as alone as a man can be on a dock bustling with other men loading and unloading cargo from scores of ships. Lighters plied their way from ship to dock ferrying those cargos and stores in an unending stream. Shouted instructions, jeers and curses mingled with the sounds of gulls and raised such a cacophony of sound as would quite embarrass a busy London street. None of it impinged on his consciousness. As he watched a particular ship, bound for Australia, weigh anchor, he wished he could take some satisfaction in the sight. One festering sore had been dealt with now, more or less, but the harm that had been left behind would admit of no solution that he could see. Wickham had the satisfaction, unknown though it was to him, of destroying, perhaps forever, Darcy's most passionate hopes and dreams for the future. His revenge, if it were known to him, would be complete.

It had been, he knew, most unlikely that Elizabeth Bennet would once more visit her friend, Mrs. Collins, at Hunsford at Easter as she had done the previous year. The knowledge that he and his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, visited their aunt at Rosings Park every year at that time would surely persuade her against making such a visit. Her denunciation of him and his character, although dulled by time, still haunted him on occasion. He hoped that his letter would have absolved him of some of the charges against him but his manner, his very dealings with her and his proposal had spoken too well of his conceit and pride; and those charges he could not hope to address in his letter. It had taken some months for him to realize how severely he had wounded her and to begin the process of change; but, unless he could be in her company once more, he could not show her that he had done so. And he knew no way of making her acquaintance once more without calling on her directly. Given her previous contempt for him, he could not see how such a call would be accepted, much less welcomed.

Correspondence from his aunt in planning his next visit to Rosings Park did not reveal any knowledge of Elizabeth's presence and he could hardly inquire about her without raising concerns and questions from Lady Catherine. He and his cousin arrived, received the usual suffocating attentions from their aunt and, out of courtesy, called on Mrs. Collins the next day. The visit started out well as Colonel Fitzwilliam, as was his wont, conversed amiably with Mrs. Collins and then, remembering her pleasant friend who had visited the previous year, inquired after Miss Elizabeth Bennet. The Colonel, of course, had not, at this time, been made privy to his cousin's dealings with Miss Bennet. Mrs. Collins was clearly discomposed by the inquiry but, before she could form a response, her husband interceded.

"I have, with your aunt's gracious condescension and, as ever, mindful of her most excellent advice, severed all connection to that unfortunate family who have fallen into ruin due to the wanton behaviour of my youngest cousin who ran away last summer - to elope it was said, although proof of such a marriage has not been shown - with a most undeserving person. Charlotte informs me, that this licentiousness of behaviour in my cousin Lydia proceeded from a faulty degree of indulgence by her parents, though I am inclined to think that her own disposition must be naturally bad, or she could not be guilty of such an enormity at so early an age. Howsoever that may be, the family is grievously to be pitied, in which opinion I am not only joined by Mrs. Collins, but likewise by Lady Catherine and her daughter, to whom I have related the entire affair. They agree with me in apprehending that this false step in one daughter would be injurious to the fortunes of all the others; for who, as Lady Catherine herself condescendingly says, would connect themselves with such a family. In this outcome we are assured, as the family has not been admitted to good society in their neighbourhood and has been shunned by all of society. I am satisfied, moreover, to reflect, with augmented satisfaction, that I was able to avoid an attachment to my Cousin Elizabeth, avidly promoted by her mother, for had it been otherwise, I must have been involved in all the disgrace of that family. Mrs. Collins and I are of one mind on this, we shall have nothing further to do with the family and, once I inherit the estate, I shall remove them from there as expeditiously as possible so as to avoid sharing in their contamination. Your aunt has recommended such a course and I have never erred in following her most gracious advice."

Mr. Collins was quite insensible to the amazement and displeasure with which his words were received by those to whom it was addressed. That his opinion was not wholly shared by his wife, whom he could not observe directly, seemed likely as her countenance assumed the most tight-lipped appearance. The Colonel shared a glance with his cousin, neither of them quite knowing how to respond until Darcy ventured to say, "This is quite shocking indeed. I can feel nothing but dismay for Miss Bennet."

Mr. Collins was not inclined to let the matter rest, "Her behaviour, I am sure, was little better than her sister's. In Lady Catherine's words, she..."

Darcy could be silent no longer and interrupted, "Mr. Collins! That is quite enough, sir! Miss Bennet is everything that is proper and it does you no credit, sir, to disparage her so."

Mr. Collins was taken aback and his thoughts warred between accepting the rebuke of his patroness's most favoured nephew and his concern that that nephew had spoken in terms which contradicted those of his patroness. Silence was his refuge as he tried vainly to assemble his thoughts - even one thought would do, if, perchance, he could find one, a result that Darcy doubted – and to respond so as to insult neither his patroness nor her nephew. Mrs. Collins's countenance, on the other hand, showed her satisfaction at this defence of her friend and it was she who Darcy addressed.

"Mrs. Collins, I realize that this is a distressing business but neither I nor Colonel Fitzwilliam is privy to the circumstances. If it is not too much of a burden, could you relate them to us?" A glare at Mr. Collins was sufficient to silence any objections he might harbour. Mrs. Collins took a few moments to organize her thoughts.

"You must understand I have not heard all the particulars. My husband has refused to admit of any correspondence with the Bennets and all that I have learned is from my parents."

Darcy and the Colonel nodded their understanding and the puzzled glance directed by the Colonel at his cousin, appeared to be noted by Mrs. Collins who had, at one time, suspected Darcy of some interest in Elizabeth Bennet but had finally come to believe herself mistaken. She put such thoughts aside and continued, "It seems that Lydia Bennet left with a militia officer from Brighton - intending to elope apparently. The officer - Mr. Wickham..."

"Wickham!" Darcy and the Colonel spoke almost as one and quite startled the Collinses. Mrs. Collins looked at Darcy and responded, "Yes! George Wickham who has proven to be a most disreputable person, leaving debts and debaucheries behind him in Meryton although none of it known until he had been gone for some months." She looked at Darcy, "He spoke poorly of you, Mr. Darcy. Very poorly!"

"Indeed. I am sure he did." Darcy looked at the floor for some moments before returning a severe gaze at Mrs. Collins. "What has been done to recover her? Has she been found?"

Mrs. Collins could only shake her head.

"And the family is being shunned?"

Mrs. Collins nodded.

Darcy looked at Mr. Collins for a minute or so, his gaze as severe as Mrs. Collins had ever seen it. When he finally spoke, it was in such a tone as to brook no opposition.

"Mr. Collins, you are a man of God, one who is expected to lead by example as well as by words. Miss Lydia's sisters should not be punished for that over which they have no control. On their father's death, which I hope will not occur for many years, it behoves you as a rector to demonstrate that charity which is so much a part of our Christian faith. I expect no more from you, and I will accept no less. Mrs. Bennet, should she be alive, and such daughters as remain with her, must be allowed sufficient time to remove themselves from Longbourn. It is your duty, sir, as a Christian and your obligation as a rector to ensure that such is the case. Am I perfectly understood, Mr. Collins?"

Mr. Collins could only nod. Whether he would follow such direction in the future was far from assured - such was his reverence for Lady Catherine. A slight nod from Mrs. Collins signalled her agreement; however, neither the Colonel nor Darcy could be certain that she had sufficient influence with her husband to direct his decisions appropriately. The reverence he held for their aunt seemed to exceed that which he held even for the Lord himself.

Darcy and the Colonel took their leave shortly thereafter. Colonel Fitzwilliam mused on the matter as they strolled back to Rosings, commiserating with Miss Bennet's situation and commenting more than once on the perfidy of Wickham. "It is a shame, Darce that we could not deal with him properly after Ramsgate. I would have gotten much pleasure from crossing swords with him although I doubt if he would have accepted a challenge. Courage and honour are not characteristics with which he is intimately familiar."

Darcy feared to speak. Such words as he might utter would have shocked his cousin and revealed the distress he was trying hard to conceal. That he offended Elizabeth in his proposal, he had accepted but he had clung to a hope that he might encounter her once again, earn her forgiveness and possibly win her good opinion. Now she had another, more serious charge to lay to his account. He now believed it to have been his responsibility to ensure that Wickham could not harm another young woman and he had failed in that charge. And Elizabeth, and her family, had paid a heavy price for his reluctance to act. His pride - his abominable pride - had not allowed him to expose Wickham's dealings and character; and he had been allowed to prey unrestricted. Darcy's anger drove the pace of his walk and they had reached the front steps of Rosings when he turned to his cousin saying, "It will not do. I cannot allow Wickham to continue in his dissolute habits. I can do naught for Miss Elizabeth but I can take such steps as are necessary to ensure his vicious tendencies harm no one else."

Fitzwilliam was only momentarily surprised by his cousin's statement. "What do you intend, Darce?"

"I am not sure but I must consider the matter further."

"Well, I may be able to help. Desertion, even if from only the Militia, is not a trivial matter after all."

Entrance into the house brought the discussion to a close and, while it was talked of between them at times during the remainder of their visit, they departed from Rosings beforetime, staying only a week - claiming a press of business which required a return to London - and speaking only once of the matter in Lady Catherine's presence. On that occasion, Lady Catherine censured Elizabeth and the Bennets. She was exceedingly unhappy when her favoured nephew chastised her strongly for her behaviour and they had passed the remainder of his visit speaking only to the other as circumstances necessitated. Mr. Collins was equally careful to avoid any such discussion with either Darcy or the Colonel and such conversation as he did possess was confined largely to Lady Catherine. Darcy spoke very briefly to Mrs. Collins but she could provide little further information on the subject other than to assure him that, to her knowledge, the remaining four sisters were well and living at Longbourn.

A week after returning to London, Colonel Fitzwilliam was able to inform Darcy that Wickham had not been apprehended by the militia and was still facing a desertion charge as well as other charges relating to his conduct in absconding with a young woman under the protection of his commander, debts of honour and sundry other offences which, in total, would ensure a prolonged stay in the stockade. Darcy had also set in motion a search for Wickham, using such resources as might be familiar with the dregs of London society. His solicitors had been instructed to redeem those debts that Wickham had left behind in Brighton and Meryton and, by the end of May, had accumulated such an amount as would, by themselves, ensure a long spell in debtor's prison for Wickham. All that was required was to find and capture him. To that end a fifty pound reward was issued for information leading to his arrest and capture.

Some two months later, the efforts of the handful of men set to that task proved successful and Wickham had been arrested and, within a fortnight, court-martialled and was now awaited sentencing. Darcy had requested, and was granted, permission to speak with him prior to that event. The initiative provided little comfort to either of them. Wickham was as presentable as was possible for someone who had been living in the stews of London for the best part of a year. The signs of dissipation which had only lightly marked his face in Meryton were now more pronounced and any suggestion of the gentleman in his address was hidden by a scruffy appearance and the absence of those gentle manners which he had used to win the approval of genteel society. It was his misfortune that he had never been a successful gambler - his belief in his prowess was based on a conviction of personal superiority unsupported by any demonstrated expertise. He won just frequently enough to believe he could win more often – which he never did. Unfortunately for him, his current gambling companions were less inclined to allow him to display his ineptitude, unsupported by funds, than militia officers had been; and his situation had grown so poor as to cause one of those to whom he owed money to betray his whereabouts for the reward offered. Given the bruises that were still evident on his face, his capturers had not treated him gently.

Darcy considered him closely. He could find no particle of pity for the man who faced him. Much of the assurance and bravado that characterized Wickham's manner was gone. For the first time in his life he was facing the consequences of his choices; and Darcy could feel nothing but satisfaction and made no attempt to conceal that emotion when he spoke.

"Well, George, it looks like your future is bleak. Fitzwilliam advises me that hanging is a possibility, although unlikely; a lashing and prison time look most possible. After the prison term is done, I will have you in debtor's prison - perhaps until you die of goal fever."

Wickham managed a sneer, "And why then should I hesitate to smear Georgiana's name?"

Darcy laughed, "Who would believe you now? Two years later and in jail? The ranting of a vengeful man. Nothing more! No one will care and you will die there and good riddance!"

"Why did you ask to speak to me then? To gloat?"

Darcy made as to leave the room but stopped and turned to face Wickham once more, "I have a question to ask you. If you answer honestly, I may be willing to seek a measure of clemency for you - in respect for my father and no other reason - although I doubt he would extend it, given what you attempted with Georgiana." He paused briefly, "I suggest you consider your answer most carefully. I could ask the court to sentence you to transportation - Australia - and a prison term there. If I am to do so, however, I wish to know what happened to Lydia Bennet. Satisfy this demand and I will speak on your behalf."

The hopeful look on Wickham's face disappeared and, from that alone, Darcy knew there was little to be gleaned. As it turned out, Wickham had finally left her in September in a seedy inn - the name of which he could no longer remember - in one of the worst parts of London. What little money they had between them, had accompanied him on his departure and he had given no further thought to her circumstances, nor had he cared.

As Darcy turned to go, he took a final look at his erstwhile boyhood friend. Not a trace of him was left. He searched Wickham's eyes and could see no sign of remorse. Nothing but hatred and it left him feeling a certain disquiet as he turned away.

Darcy had left him then, spoken on his behalf - notwithstanding the strong objections of Colonel Fitzwilliam who wished, in his words, 'to see the blackguard treated as harshly as possible' - to the presiding officer at the court-martial and now he stood on the dock watching the ship carrying Wickham begin its journey to Australia. He waited until the ship was lost from sight before returning to his carriage, wishing to think of Wickham no further but that sense of disquiet that surfaced when he saw him in the goal, remained. He had erred in the past by ignoring Wickham's activities; that error, he would not repeat.

His search for Lydia had proven fruitless. Mrs. Younge had little knowledge of her. An offer of a reward had produced any number of young women claiming to be Lydia Bennet; however, all had proven to be imposters and he now questioned whether she had even survived and, if she had, whether she would want to return to her family or they, to welcome her back. He could not, he believed, ally his family to the Bennets at this time even if there was a possibility that Elizabeth might accept him. Georgiana was to enter society in the next year and her prospects would be severely tarnished by such a connection.

 _ **Gracechurch Street, London, 1813**_

"Lizzie!"

Jane's soft voice recalled her to her surroundings.

"Lizzie, Are you well? You looked so…lost almost."

"I am well, my dearest sister." Elizabeth knew she had to shake off her introspective mood for her sister's sake. She could not dwell on her own circumstances, at least not at this time. After all, her sister's marriage is not a time for sadness and she could take unalloyed pleasure in Jane's happiness.

The wedding had been held in London at the Gardiner's church rather than in Longbourn, and the preparations were undertaken with little direction from Mrs. Bennet. Jane had been uncharacteristically firm, even blunt, on the matter and the direction for the wedding was placed in the hands of her Aunt Gardiner and Mr. Simmons' mother. Mrs. Bennet was allowed to be of assistance in the acquisition of the wedding clothes although, even here, Jane deferred to her aunt's advice. As she was to relate to her sister later, she did not repine the loss of her mother's effusions and confusions in the smallest part.

Elizabeth smiled at her sister, "You are happy, Jane?"

"How can I not be? I could only wish as much for you."

"I believe that until I have your goodness, I shall never have your happiness, Jane. But maybe, just maybe, I shall be put in the path of another Mr. Collins."

They both began to laugh and their amusement drew the attention of others in the room, one of whom approached to claim his bride. James Simmons drew his wife's hand onto his arm.

"I believe, Mrs. Simmons, that we should take our leave."

They were to leave to spend a fortnight in Ramsgate and, if they left soon, could reach their cottage there before dark. Under his determined direction, which prevented Mrs. Bennet from the fullest expressions of her pleasure in having a daughter wed, even if only to a tradesman with an income of three thousand a year; for that good lady had been reconciled to the match due largely to the ability to be received by her neighbours and thus allowed to impart the news of the Bennet's turn in circumstances. The Simmonses were able to make their departure a quarter hour later. Elizabeth took some comfort that her mother did not have the opportunity to remind them all how badly Jane had been treated by Mr. Bingley, who had five thousand per year, nor that her ungrateful second daughter had spurned a most eligible marriage offer from Mr. Collins.

As Elizabeth waved her farewell to her sister and her new husband, she felt her Aunt Gardiner's presence by her side.

"I hope, Lizzie, that you are planning to stay with us for the fortnight before our trip to Cornwall?"

"I was hoping you would ask me, aunt. I will gladly stay."

"Your father will not object?"

"I sometimes fear that my father has little attention left for his family. We see him so rarely…"

"He still feels very much to blame, Lizzy."

"Does he? I could have wished he had done so earlier."

Madeline Gardiner was about to comment on the bitterness in her niece's voice but then thought better of it. She, after all, did not bear the opprobrium that Elizabeth and her sisters faced daily.

"Come, my dear. Let me tell you of my plans for the next fortnight. Now that I have you to myself, I and the children shall quite overset you with activities."

"I look forward to it, aunt. It shall be a most welcome change."


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 4

 _ **August – Sloane Street, London, 1813**_

Jane had ventured out into their small garden and there her husband found her. The breeze had cooled the day and dispersed much of the miasma of the London air. The garden, in the cool of the evening, was an attractive spot and, he thought, greatly enhanced by the presence of his wife. His business had made him late to supper, not an unusual event, and the prospect of an evening ensconced with his wife in their bed, was most…enticing. He rather thought his chances of persuading her to be of a like opinion rather good until, that is, he noticed the many pages of the letter she was reading. He had little doubt as the writer.

"I see you have finally received a letter from Lizzy."

His wife looked up at him with her happiest smile – the one that turned his heart over – and said, "Indeed, four full pages. Let me read you some portions."

"…We arrived late this evening in Falmouth after leaving the town of Chacewater in the morning. We had expected to arrive here much earlier but chose to visit, Knowles Park, home of the Knowles family and an estate recommended to us by the innkeeper. My suspicions that he was prejudiced to favour the family by its importance to the town proved erroneous and served once more as a rebuke to my habit of thinking the worst of people. The estate is quite attractive, with grounds where human artifice has not been allowed to supplant nature's own beauty. The house was quite grand, old but well-kept and finely, although not extravagantly, furnished. We encountered the family - Mr. Fellowes, his wife and his eldest son – while touring the grounds, an activity which they also had enjoyed, the day being sunny and quite warm. To our surprise they were most gracious towards us, invited us to tea – which we accepted – and conversed most readily with us on our travels. Unfortunately, we could not accept their invitation to dine– I hardly expected such a courtesy – as we were expected in Falmouth that evening."

"They stayed in Falmouth for several days and then left for St. Ives." said Jane reading on. "She speaks of their activities in Falmouth but nothing of great significance."

"…We departed early this morning from Falmouth, arriving in St. Ives rather late as we made several stops along the way. Our plan is to spend several days exploring the area. The view of the beaches at Carbis Bay which presented itself as we drove past makes them an object for tomorrow if my aunt and uncle will humour me. I had become so habituated with the rugged cliffs of the coastline of Cornwall that to see such a stretch of sandy beach quite overset me altogether. It is called Porthminster Beach and I cannot wait to walk from one end to the other. I regret that I must, as a proper young lady, wear my shoes. I could wish to be a child again and enjoy the feel of the sand on my bare feet. It will not do! I wonder if I can persuade my aunt to go bathing with me? I suspect not and I cannot venture to do it alone."

"Lizzy must have talked my aunt into sailing – I wonder at it as Aunt Gardiner does not like sailing at all, she always complains of being ill. In any event they appeared to have had a fine day and no word of our aunt being sick."

"…and we sailed for several hours and ventured out along the coast as far as _ before turning back. There was a fair breeze during our trip and Mr. Hillier, the captain and crew of the boat – called a pinnace – opined that it was perfect sailing weather. It was a very warm day but the breeze and the spray thrown up as we moved through the water made it delightfully comfortable. Oddly, Uncle Gardiner found his stomach was … unsettled by the waves although aunt and I were quite at our ease. Our aunt quite enjoyed repaying past grievances on the matter, I believe. Mr. Harris sailed us along Hayles Beach which is a few miles removed from St. Ives and must be all of three miles in length. It quite makes Portminster Beach look insignificant."

"Oh dear!"

"What is the matter, dearest?" Simmons was stroking his wife's arm, hoping to distract her from the letter.

"Lizzy received a letter from Mama!"

"Why would your mother write to your sister while she is travelling?"

"Jane shook her head, "Listen and learn, my love….and do not stop your particular…distracting attentions."

"Are they working?"

"Yes, but not enough to distract me from this letter." She teased. "I will not bore you with all the details but listen to what Lizzy writes."

"…letter from my mother arrived this morning. I wondered that she would bother to write. She has not done so for some months and rarely when I travel; however, it all became clear when I read it. Kitty must have spoken to her about our visit to the Fellowes' estate and the presence of the young Mr. Fellowes who was accompanying his parents that day. I do not remember if I mentioned his wife, who was visiting her parents who lived at a neighbouring estate, but I suspect my mother believed him to be unmarried as she was quite like her old self in pressing me to engage his interest. She was quite unhappy with me and my aunt and uncle that we did not accept the dinner invitation during which, to quote Mama "I could secure his interest!" She will, I am sure, be desolate to learn that the gentleman is happily married with a young family. At least it will discourage her reproaches of me in this regard, although if she is fixed on the matter of my marrying, I anticipate further intrusions into my peace of mind. It is, however, a sad fact that while my mother once could boast of dining with four and twenty families, that is a pitifully small number of families from which to secure a husband even should any of their sons wish to establish such a connection. That none are so inclined at the moment must depress any efforts by my mother. Should she learn that the only interest of a marital nature that I have drawn in recent months is from one or two shopkeepers in Meryton looking to acquire a gentleman's daughter as a spouse, my mother's nerves might never recover. I would not despise a shopkeeper if he were a man I could admire, but such is not the case in these instances. I could not encourage the interest of such men and my mother is happier not knowing. I have spoken to Kitty and Mary on the matter and urged caution to them both; however, neither has yet been so approached to my knowledge. I hope that the Assembly we attended last winter made our circumstances clear to them both. Nary a one of the sons of the leading families asked us to dance; if it were not for the few tradesmen who condescended to do so, we would have sat out all the dances. Neither of my sisters complained when I insisted we leave early."

Simmons shook his head, "I hope that you can convince your sister to join us for a month or more when she returns. I believe we can put her in the path of more worthy prospects than a shopkeeper in Meryton."

"We can try but Lizzy is much needed to help manage Longbourn. I suspect she received several letters from Mr. Carton while travelling."

"Nonetheless, it would be to her advantage to spend more time with us; and I know you would not repine her company."

Jane folded her letter and rose, offering her hand to her husband, "I would also not repine your company in our chambers."

The Simmonses were not seen by the household staff till the next morning at breakfast.

 _ **September 1813 – Sloane Street, London**_

"Lizzy, what am I to do with you?"

Elizabeth could hear the touch of exasperation in her elder sister's laughing tones.

"What shall you want to do with me?" her rejoinder was light-hearted. "I believe your best course is to give me up as a lost cause."

Jane just shook her head as she settled at the dining table after filling her plate with breakfast edibles. She forbore to shake an admonishing finger at her sister, contenting herself by saying, "I hate to sound like our Mama but you are not co-operating with my efforts to find you a husband."

Elizabeth snorted into her tea, "I had begun to suspect that some such plot was behind all these dinners you have been hosting, and having me attend, lately. I had not thought you so social as this."

Jane looked slightly embarrassed, "Has it been so obvious, then?"

"Mama would be proud of you, Jane. Very proud!"

"Oh dear!"

Elizabeth laughed, "Do not be too vexed, my dear sister. I can honestly say that your endeavours are much less embarrassing than Mama's ever were."

"Thank you….I think?"

"Truly, Jane, there is naught to worry about. Your Mr. James is…not uninteresting."

"He is not my Mr. James." Jane paused for a moment, "I was rather hoping he might become yours. Do you expect him to call on you?"

"I hardly know. He did seem to have some interest."

"He did appear to pay you some particular attention last night."

"Yeeeesss…."

"You appear uncertain, Lizzy."

"It was difficult to gauge his interest. He was a little….taken aback when I offered opposing opinions."

"Hmmm. What did you think of him otherwise? He is relatively prosperous and James thinks highly of him."

"I have nothing but respect for James' opinion, particularly in regards to his friend's worthiness in business."

"I hear a 'but' there, I believe."

Elizabeth gave her sister a slight smile and thought for some moments before responding.

"I will not deny that Mr. James is not unattractive and well able to support a wife. From the little that James has imparted, he is also a respectable man and honourable in his business dealings. I can hardly believe he would be otherwise in the remainder of his dealings."

She paused. "He…appears to be sensible and reasonably intelligent. I doubt he could be successful in business if he were otherwise."

"But?"

"But I do not find myself attracted to him particularly and, several times in our conversations, I found myself displeased with his reactions to something I said."

Jane looked a little puzzled, "Can you be a little more explicit?"

Elizabeth looked reluctant, "It is quite trivial and I would not presume to judge the gentleman unfairly as a result."

"Nevertheless, I would like to know."

"One incident arose when we somehow began discussing, of all things, slavery."

"Slavery? How…?"

"He mentioned that much of his business involved the produce of the West Indies."

Jane's eyebrows rose, "Really? I had not known that."

"Yes. I made an observation about the use of slaves. I suppose my expression, my tone of voice, expressed some disapproval, which I undoubtedly feel. Mr. James seemed to infer a criticism on my part which I certainly had not intended. He spoke quite forcefully on the need to be practical in such matters and seemed to imply that Mr. Wilberforce and his supporters are – how did he express it – ah yes, 'impractical dreamers' was his term." She laughed, "I suppose that is mild compared to what others have called them. To be 'impractical' appears to Mr. James to be the worst kind of insult."

"To be sure." Jane was thoughtful, "Is that the worst you accuse him of?"

"Jane, I would not have you think me ungenerous. Should Mr. James call, I will receive him with all civility. You may be assured that I am very much aware of my circumstances and am quite determined to take the time to discover the character of a gentleman." A touch of bitterness entered her voice, "I am, I assure you, quite aware of my past mistakes and will endeavour not to repeat them."

"Oh Lizzy, I did not mean to…"

"'Tis only the truth, Jane. You should not vex yourself on my account. I will treat Mr. James kindly; and, should he persuade me that I could be content with him, I shall allow him to know as much."

"And if he does not persuade you?"

"He shall know that also." Jane did not mistake the determination in her sister's tones. "However, Jane, I shall, I promise you, be kinder than the last time I discouraged a suitor." Knowing how her sister had rejected Mr. Darcy's proposal, Jane could only smile in acknowledgement. Her sister had not changed in essentials but was slower to judge and less harsh in those judgements.

As it turned out, Mr. James did indeed call on Elizabeth two days later and spent a full half hour in conversation with Jane and her sister. Invitations to dinner followed and, if the Simmonses were exceedingly pleased with the seeming progress in the relationship, that satisfaction was not shared by Elizabeth – a fact which she took care to hide from them until sure in her conclusions.

Mr. James, she soon found, was indeed an intelligent man, well-informed on all matters of business and seemingly related to any matter that bore on such matters directly. He was pleased to talk of his business and aspects and people related to it and could do so with ease and intelligence. Elizabeth could find no fault with his understanding in that regard. However, he was little pleased to listen to her opinions on such matters and all too quick to dismiss them should they be in opposition to his own. Books were of little interest unless they had to do, in one way or another, with business and trade; if they were of a more frivolous nature, such as novels or poetry or plays, they could, in his estimation, be ignored altogether – and were; if they were of a philosophical or historical bent, they were the province of the impractical. Mr. James could be enticed to attend a theatre play or an art exhibit, but was rather unsuccessful in hiding his boredom with either entertainment and to discuss either intelligibly, beyond his capability. Any of this, Elizabeth might well have been prepared to overlook, if convinced that the man was prepared to listen and expand his horizons; but this seemed increasingly improbable, the more she came to understand him. It was not, she found, that he lacked the intelligence to grow and develop but rather he saw no purpose to doing so and, from his various reactions, she could not see that he respected her enough to be instructed or guided by her. In the absence of such basic respect, she could see no future in their relationship.

Communicating as much to her sister was difficult, for she knew Jane wished most strongly to see her favourite sister situated as well and as happily as herself. It took no little talking for Elizabeth to convince her sister of her feelings. Invitations to Mr. James ceased and, if that gentleman was unhappy about the loss of Elizabeth's company, it was of a short duration as, Jane was later to inform Elizabeth, he married but several months after his last visit. Shortly after the visits of Mr. James terminated, Elizabeth's visit to her sister came to an end and she returned to Longbourn. It was her sister Mary's opportunity to escape Longbourn for a month or so.

 _ **December – Pemberley, Derbyshire, 1813**_

Christmas had come and gone, the family celebrations and gatherings had largely been completed. Georgiana, who had gone to stay with a friend for several days, would return tomorrow. That was a happy prospect. His house was much too lonely without her presence and comfort. He had been invited to a dinner tonight but had chosen to remain at home. The prospect of having one or more eligible young women of the ton paraded for his inspection and, hopefully, approval was more than he could tolerate tonight. For whatever reason, and he could not discern it himself, he was inclined to peruse his journal for the last few months. As seemed to be inevitable his thoughts revolved around Elizabeth Bennet and her situation.

"…I have thought much on the matter of Lydia Bennet and whether her ruination would materially attach itself to her elder sister and thus damaging my own sister's prospects should I marry Elizabeth. If I were to believe the popular romantic novels, such considerations should be discarded altogether. Unfortunately, I am too familiar with the dictates of English society at its highest levels to be so naive. Perhaps it is a reaction to the profligate and dissolute habits of the Prince Regent but those without the protection of a title – which seemed to endow those so favoured with social acceptance regardless of their actions – must adhere to a strict standard of behaviour. The most privileged members of our society can pursue an opulent, extravagant life of indulgence and dissipation not allowed the rest of us. Royalty are forgiven for almost any transgression. Scandalous activities such as having illegitimate children or conducting extra-marital affairs will incite gossip, but are often overlooked for members of the aristocracy. However, such conduct among my peers can destroy an entire family's social aspirations. The scandal sheets are cruel to anyone who departs from the accepted behaviour, not averse to attributing the most nefarious purposes to the most innocent activity. A Lord Byron will still receive invitations whereas should I behave so, my sister and I would be mostly shunned, much as the Bennets have been." (September 11, 1813)

He snorted. The scandal sheets would, he knew, never be specific as to his name. He would be a single, rich eligible bachelor from Derbyshire and the reputation of Elizabeth would be tarnished to the degree that it might appear as though she herself was the source and cause of the ruination. Whatever was said would sound twice as bad once into print and then twice as bad again when fed into the gossip circle.

"…I am concerned about Georgiana's entrance into society, a concern which Richard, as her other guardian, shares. This was an event for which we had already begun to make serious plans, the first step of which had been to consult my other aunt, Eileen, Countess Matlock, and her daughter, Lady Janet Harrison, who was some two years my junior. I believe at one time my uncle, the Earl, rather hoped that I might take an interest in Janet but neither of us was inclined to the other and have been quite content to co-exist as good friends. My aunt has agreed to sponsor Georgiana and I have given over to her the responsibility for introducing her into society next year. They are beginning their preparations even as we speak and, if I understand my aunt correctly, my sister will be allowed to attend a few balls and other events this fall although dancing will not be allowed. My aunt explains, and I must accede to her experience, that Georgiana must become more familiar and comfortable with such settings." (September 23, 1813)

At least his Aunt Catherine would be dissuaded from attempting to control Georgiana's coming out; as she had not even performed the feat for his cousin Ann, he had wondered at her initial attempts to inject herself into the process but, fortunately, his Aunt Eileen had brusquely dismissed her ladyship's pretensions, and more effectively than he could.

"…I wonder if Richard has spoken to his mother about Elizabeth's family. I cannot imagine why he would so but I am at a loss for any other explanation as to why she would, this afternoon, quite take me to task about the necessity for avoiding any tinge of scandal. My protestations that I have never done anything to warrant such concern fell on deaf ears. I cannot account for it although I quite understand her concerns, she does, to me at least, appear to attach an unwarranted amount of importance to the subject." (October 1, 1813)

He had learned the cause of his aunt's tirade about scandal. His cousin, Janet Harrison, wrote him that the Viscount had taken another mistress and has been most blatant in parading her around town. Both of his aunts were seriously displeased although he failed to understand why Lady Catherine would ring a peal over him about it. When had he ever behaved so? He felt no small degree of annoyance with his cousin, the Viscount. The man was married, with several children. While Darcy might concede that his cousin's wife was cast in much the same mold as his Aunt Catherine, and he could hardly blame his cousin for avoiding her company when he could, to publicly paraded a mistress in society at events where his wife might be expected to be present, did no credit to the Fitzwilliam name and, by association, the Darcy name.

"...Georgiana is not altogether happy with having to be introduced into society by my aunt. I thought at first her objections were to having to 'come out' but such is not the case. She finds my aunt quite officious, rigid and demanding. I understand her concerns but when I suggested that the alternative was our Aunt Catherine, she almost fainted. I assured her I was but teasing and, after some persuasion on her part, agreed to speak to our cousin Janet on the matter. I did so later that evening and she is quite agreeable to assisting Georgiana. I am sure her steady and amiable manner will provide the support and encouragement that Georgiana will require." (October 16, 1813)

Georgiana had been subsequently interviewed by the high priestesses of Almack's and been deemed suitable to enter their hallowed domain. According to Aunt Eileen, they were extremely impressed by her manners and delighted with her musical ability. That she would impress, if not overcome with shyness, he had never doubted. That portended well for her first season.

The pleasure he experienced when he finally stepped through the doors at Pemberley after several months in London was incalculable. The past few months had tried his soul and exhausted his patience to a degree that he had not believed possible. Georgiana was almost as relieved as himself. It was no small blessing that they would not have to return to London until March. They both felt the need for those three months to restore their equanimity.

He had not thought it possible to endure another season even if it only lasted a scant six weeks and could not recollect its being such a trial. He had had a surfeit of teas, dinners, balls, at-homes, breakfasts to last a lifetime and yet he knew that he and Georgiana must endure it once more in the coming spring. He could scarce remember a single evening spent in the seclusion of his library. Georgiana appeared to have suffered less than himself which, he thought, might be due to the presence of Janet at her side which allowed her to find some pleasure in the doings. He could not. It was unfortunate that his Cousin Janet's condition could forestall her active assistance next spring but Georgiana appeared to believe that she could manage it well enough with their aunt's guidance. He knew that they owed their Aunt and Janet a great deal for their help and was gratified that his Aunt Eileen had been much less unbending than either Georgiana or he had expected.

His exposure to London's first circle was no happier this year than last. He continued to be dismayed at the insipidness, conceit and unkindness so prevalent amongst young women. And, while he admitted that there were some who showed signs of intelligence and kindness, they, for one reason or another, failed to incite any interest on his part to know them better. His aunt had paraded such a flock of young ladies before him as to quite make them indistinguishable one from the other. He feared a certain young woman had quite spoiled him for others of her sex. He compared them all to her and found them wanting.

Darcy's social reticence, displayed in a tendency to withdraw to the sidelines in social occasions where he was amongst company with whom he was unfamiliar, had provided him many opportunities to observe and assess his peers in their social play. He was too intelligent to fail to understand and appreciate that the society in which he moved was intensely conscious of rank with that incredible double standard of morality. Birth, wealth and titles were the main determinants of social standing and though some wealthier members of the middle class might possibly marry into the lower ranks of the gentry, such unions would not be completely accepted by the higher levels until several generations passed. While social positions could be altered by income, houses, speech, clothing, or even manners, climbing the social ranks could take generations, particularly into the aristocracy who did not readily accept into their ranks those they perceived to be of inferior birth.

He could attest to this from within his own family. His uncle, the Earl of Matlock, was all that was genial and amiable and, while quite concerned with proper behaviour, not particularly predisposed to disfavour those engaged in trade; his aunt, the Countess, and her eldest son– the Viscount – were much different and adhered to a strong desire to see the distinction of rank preserved. They were, perhaps, more polite about this belief than Lady Catherine, but no less decided on it. The Viscount's dissipative lifestyle did not recommend him to Darcy and their acquaintance had never been close. The Earl's other children, Lady Janet and the Colonel, were more of a mind with him.

Darcy could well remember his aunt's unhappiness at having to have her daughter interviewed by the Lady Patronesses of Almack's in order to earn the voucher that would gain her entry into that hallowed spot – exclusion from which would greatly dim his cousin's marriage prospects. (Having been there on numerous occasions he could attest to the insipidness of the conversation, the inedible quality of food served and the lamentable lack of those beverages which would otherwise make being there more tolerable.) He knew it grated on his aunt's sensibilities that the Fitzwilliams were relative newcomers to the titled ranks, his uncle being only the third Earl of Matlock. The family had earned a certain status, of course, but the Countess was not amongst the social leaders. In any event, she had to present herself and his cousin to an interview by those Lady Patronesses who at that time included Lady Jersey and Lady Castlereagh amongst their number. It was an uncomfortable process and while Darcy doubted that there was any intention to deny a voucher, the need for an interview at all was…unsettling to both his relations.

Georgiana would, of necessity, have to go through the same process; although, in some respects, he considered that it might be easier for her. The Darcy family, untitled though it may be, was of such distinction as to stand on a level with the Fitzwilliams in their station in society; however, even a brush of scandal, a suggestion that Georgiana had planned to elope, could bar her from Almack's and damage her marriage prospects immeasurably. Darcy's thoughts were now – due to the departure of Wickham - more directed to the impact that a connection with Miss Elizabeth Bennet might have on those prospects. He could not but fear that such a connection could not be considered until such time as Georgie was safely married. An Almack's voucher, you see, could be rescinded, should its holder be deemed to be unworthy.

Let us leave our hero to such dismal thoughts as preoccupied his mind and continue our journey through the past to the next eventful stage.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 5

 _ **March - Longbourn Hertfordshire, 1814**_

Could the day get any worse? The weather outside was far from inviting; the worst that March could offer – cold, a drizzly rain accompanied by a breeze that sapped whatever warmth was left in the air. Venturing out for a walk was not to be considered. She had come down to breakfast to find that Cook had taken to her bed with a fever and her assistant, less than qualified unless closely supervised, had managed to provide a breakfast that tasted much as it looked – poorly. The only saving grace had been that the tea was hot and plentiful. She could only assume that ruining that beverage was beyond even the capabilities of Cook's helper.

She had not been overly unhappy, given the quality of the meal, to be disturbed while eating her breakfast by a message from Mr. Carton, Longbourn's steward. Not unhappy, that is, until she read the message and absorbed its contents. She looked out the window and grimaced. Staying in the house was no longer possible. It seems that the roof of one of Longbourn's tenant cottages had partially collapsed and provision had to be made for the family until repairs could be effected. She would inform her father of the news but was under no illusion that he would assume any responsibility in the matter, knowing as he did, that his daughter and steward could act on his behalf. Nonetheless, she felt obligated to advise him of the matter and seek his participation – as she had done on numerous previous occasions with equal success – which is to say that he had declined to become involved.

She had approached him in his bookroom where he had already taken his breakfast and found him, as expected, ensconced in his comfortable armchair before the warm fire, reading his latest acquisition and oblivious to his surroundings. His desk was clear of any items – the estate journals and ledgers had all been removed to Lydia's bed chamber which she had converted into a study. Her mother's initial objections to such a summary dismissal of her favourite daughter's probable return had not been quiet but, thankfully, were short-lived. Her father's bookroom was no longer a place of business but a sanctuary, a refuge from the world in fact if not in name. She had looked at her father and wondered that he had not joined a monastery. She had read that the Trappist monks followed a vow of silence. It would suit her father very well, she thought.

Once she had gained his attention, she explained the matter that had arisen and that she proposed to visit with Mr. Carton and oversee the removal of the family and make such preparations as would be required to repair their home. Having done so, she waited for his response. He looked at her quizzically.

"I am sure that you and Mr. Carton can handle the matter quite well between you, Elizabeth. I see no need for my presence."

He had not called her 'Lizzy' for almost a year; not since he returned from his futile search for Lydia and met with her disappointed gaze. She could only imagine that he felt her unspoken reproaches and succeeding events had only widened the chasm between them as he withdrew further from his family and responsibilities. She felt a sense of anger and disapproval rise within her. The father she had loved would not have acted so. Unfortunately, her countenance must have displayed her thoughts more clearly than she could have wished, for her father said bitterly, "You used to be better at hiding your feelings."

"I used to have no cause to do so for the most part." Elizabeth knew she should have curbed her tongue but her anger was overpowering her usual self-control.

"I wonder at your living here now."

"If I did not, who would assume responsibility for Longbourn?"

Her answer was not designed to placate her father and, if she had any expectation that it would provoke a positive response or a change in behaviour, she was to be disappointed. He waved his hand at her dismissively, "Leave me!"

And she did. The question remained, however, could she leave and, if she did, how was the estate, its tenants, the household, to be managed? Could she undertake such a task, when removed from the premises? She had a sudden thought of Mr. Darcy who was inundated with correspondence on business matters even when travelling and visiting his friends. Apparently it was possible, and she would have to consider it further - when she had the opportunity. For now, she must be about her business.

The carriage being unavailable – she had chosen this week to have some necessary repairs made – she had no recourse but to use the dogcart; and so, dressed as warmly as possible, with Mary as companion, they made the five mile journey to the Tilton's cottage. If the damage was somewhat less severe than her imagination had conjured up, it was still impossible for a family to reside in the cottage until the roof was repaired. By the time she and Mary arrived, their clothing had soaked up an inordinate amount of water from the misty air and in combination with the cold and wind they both found themselves extremely uncomfortable. It was with no small relief that they entered that portion of the cottage over which a solid roof provided protection.

A brief conversation with Mr. Carton assured her that an immediate remedy was available – a small empty cottage on the estate would serve as a temporary shelter until repairs were complete. This fact was made known to Mr. Tilton who did not appear to take much comfort from it and appeared incensed that he and his family should be so inconvenienced.

"I wrote to the Master six months past about this roof and nothin' twere done bout it. It's not good enough, Mr. Carton. No sir. It's not good enough. I pays me rent proper and I should get a proper house, I should. I wrote him, I did, and told him all bout the roof; but did he do anything? No sir! Nothing is what he did. And…"

Mr. Carton finally managed to interrupt, "You wrote the Master? Why should you do such? I deal with these problems."

"I signed no contract with you, Mr. Carton. Deed I did not! I…"

Elizabeth interrupted quickly as she could sense another flood of complaints brewing. Mr. Tilton had always stood on his rights to contact and deal with her father directly. She was sure that his letter, if seen by her father, had most probably been consigned to the fire. For a certainty she had not seen it and it was her practice to sort all of her father's mail before it reached his desk. Somehow this letter had been missed.

"Mr. Tilton, " she said, her voice as calm as she could make it under the circumstances, "I cannot say what happened to your letter but I can assure you that it has obviously gone astray, as otherwise this problem would have been addressed." She could not admit that her father ignored all estate business and, after a brief pause, continued, "However, I must demand and I speak for my father on this, that you write directly to Mr. Carton. He…" and she held up her hand to prevent Mr. Tilton from interrupting, "Mr. Carton is best positioned to undertake the work required and will discuss it with my father."

"It is my right, Miss Bennet, to inform the Master directly. And where is he today? Why has he not come?"

"My father is not well and asks me to come on his behalf. And you may write my father should you wish to do so, Mr. Tilton. I would not presume to stop you; however, my father insists that you write Mr. Carton as well." She looked at Mr. Tilton steadily until he nodded in agreement. "Good, we would wish to avoid another situation as we have here, would we not?"

The matter was quickly resolved and preparations for the move to the new cottage, which had started prior to their discussion, resumed with increased vigour. A brief conference with Mr. Carton saw to the hiring of a carpenter to assess the damage and carry out the repairs. Their departure, however, was not to be so easy as Mary, while her sister was engaged with Mr. Tilton and Mr. Carton, had been taken under siege by Mrs. Tilton on the great inconveniences she had suffered, the discomfort that the Bennets had put her through, the smallness of the cottage to which they were to be removed – for how was she to find space for five children in a cottage with only two bedrooms she did not know, the damage that had been done to some of her furniture and who was to pay for their repair and, finally, she hoped that the whole business would not bring on her confinement as she was not to expect the babe for another two months. Mary was quite beyond her capabilities in dealing with these effusions and it required her sister's support and a further ten minutes to calm the good lady sufficiently to take their leave. The two young women made their way home, becoming more thoroughly soaked by the time they arrived as the mist had appeared to have thickened. Their appearance coincided with a brief visit by their mother to the parlour as she belatedly had become aware that her calls for a daughter to attend her had only produced Kitty. The absence of her other two daughters and the cause thereof soon convinced her to await their return in that room. She had no sooner viewed their condition than she felt herself overcome with the offence to her sensibilities. Such censure as found expression was directly mainly at her second eldest daughter.

"Aye, there they come," exclaimed Mrs. Bennet looking only at Elizabeth, "looking as unconcerned as may be, and caring no more for me than if I were at York, provided she can have her own way. But I tell you what, Miss Lizzy, if you take it into your head to go on behaving in this way, acting as though you are master of this estate, refusing every offer of marriage that comes your way, you will never get a husband at all. And I am sure I do not know who is to maintain you when your father is dead. I shall not be able to keep you, and so I warn you, do not expect a home with me. I have done with you from this very day. If you had done your duty, your sister would not have run off with Wickham, she only did so since she saw the need to marry as quickly as possible. If you had been married to Mr. Collins, she could have lived with you and never seen Wickham. I once told you that I should never speak to you again, and you will find me as good as my word – indeed you will. I have no pleasure in talking to undutiful children, and your behaviour now will certainly stop any man from offering for you. No, you may expect only silence from me in the future. Not that I have much pleasure indeed in talking to anybody. People who suffer as I do from nervous complaints can have no great inclination for talking. Nobody can tell what I suffer! But it is always so. Those who do not complain are never pitied."

Elizabeth, unwilling to be openly disrespectful towards her mother, listened patiently for some minutes whilst Mary, being ignored by her parent, chose the first opportunity to escape to her bedroom to don dry clothing. Finally, motivated in equal parts by the discomfort of standing in cold wet clothing and listening to the reproaches of her mother, Elizabeth turned to follow her sister's path and left Mrs. Bennet, who took such umbrage at being dismissed so blatantly that she followed her daughter upstairs, chastising her all the while and only desisting when the bedroom door was firmly closed, and locked, in her face. The afternoon was spent reviewing the ledgers and responding to such correspondence as her father had left unopened. By the time she was called to dinner, her mood was noticeably improved and she felt capable of being civil to more than just her sisters.

Unfortunately, while the meal itself was as well prepared as usual, conversation around the table was sadly deficient. If the three sisters conversed amiably amongst themselves, their parents contributed little or nothing to the civility of the occasion. True to her word, Mrs. Bennet addressed not one word to Elizabeth but was content to speak of her to the others at the table in words that bespoke clearly her disapprobation and unhappiness. As neither of Elizabeth's sisters felt compelled to support their mother's endeavour, her mother's conversation, such as it was, dominated for most of the meal. Mr. Bennet's presence was noteworthy for the sourness of his expression and a clear disinclination to speak with anyone. Towards Elizabeth, his manner was particularly cold and he looked at her only to frown. Elizabeth wondered that he had joined them at all and thought to suggest that he might, in future, prefer to take his meal in his bookroom to spare himself their company and they, his. That such a recommendation would be unwelcome, she did not doubt.

As she prepared herself for bed that night, she resolved that her days at Longbourn must come to an end. She could not contemplate a life stretching before her that possessed so little satisfaction or joy. No! She must find a new home. Whether that be by marriage or other situation, she cared not. But leave she must.

 _ **April - Gracechurch Street, London, 1814**_

Elizabeth sanded her letter and then shook the grains into the small sand box on her desk, tapping it once or twice to shake loose those few grains that were attempting to adhere to the ink. She hoped that her letter was not tinged with that slight touch of envy she felt for her sister's good fortune. A husband that she cared for deeply, a comfortable establishment and now, a healthy daughter. She could admit of her envy to herself but, to have others discern it was more than she could bear. She read her letter once more.

 _Gracechurch Street, London_

 _April 17, 1814_

 _Dear Charlotte,_

 _As ever, I delight to hear from you and take no little pleasure in your recounting of the deeds of your son. I can tell your pleasure in him from the words you write and I must stand – or rather sit at the moment – in awe of your being a mother. I have every confidence in your ability to raise him well. Your brothers were never spared your attentions and they survived relatively intact, did they not? Now, if you can only avoid heeding Lady Catherine's advice. I wonder at a woman who has not raised a son, being so free to provide direction as to the proper method of doing so. Of course, we all know that she would be a great proficient at any task she set herself to, should she care to do so. Unfortunately for the world, she has never set herself to the task of being a sensible woman; however, I will force myself to be sensitive to your feelings and shall disparage your husband's patroness no more._

 _I am writing from my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner's home on Gracechurch Street, having returned from assisting Jane during her confinement. I return to Longbourn in a fortnight and hope to avail myself of a theatre play before doing so. I have toyed with your patience long enough. I am now an aunt! Jane gave birth to the most beautiful daughter last night and I apparently am to be singularly honoured. Not only have I been asked to stand as one of her godmothers but she will bear the name of Elizabeth Madeline Simmons. It was, according to the midwife, a relatively easy confinement, although you could not know it from my experience. Jane's pains began shortly before luncheon and the babe arrived by eight that evening._

 _My own duties were rather simple. Despite being unmarried, I was permitted in the birthing room; I fear my mother believes I will never marry and, therefore, unlikely to be harmed by the experience. Much as Jane might have wished – and she is much too good to say so – our mother's presence could not be prevented. She insisted on being present at the birth of her first grandchild. My task, it became obvious, was to distract her sufficiently as to allow the midwife to perform her duties. I must have performed in an acceptable manner – although I did have, and required, my Aunt Gardiner's assistance – since mother and child are both well and my mother is alive and not overly unhappy – or, at least, not more than is her usual wont._

 _My aunt is already making plans for this summer and is proposing that I join her, uncle and their two eldest children on a foray into Wiltshire. I am quite looking forward to the adventure. These journeys with my aunt and uncle are quite the high point of my year. I can still remember our travels in Derbyshire and would not be reluctant to return there should an opportunity present itself. I always regretted that a lack of time prevented us visiting The Lakes and I assure you that Lydia's misfortunes have not damaged my fond memories of Derbyshire. I do not wish for much these days but, to have sufficient means to travel and see parts of our delightful country, is one wish I hold dear._

 _I have not spoken of Longbourn and, as I am sure you realize, for good reason. Jane's marriage has apparently rehabilitated my family's reputation slightly in the neighbourhood. However, my mother's spirits while, for a short time, raised at the happy news, have since dropped so low as to not allow her to derive any pleasure from it. I suspect that Jane's refusal to visit Longbourn and Papa's refusal to allow her to visit London - although Jane has yet to invite her - has much to do with her low spirits. I also remain her least favoured daughter – Lydia's behaviour apparently has not damaged her in my mother's eyes – and we have tended to avoid each other's company. I am sure she greets my stays with the Gardiners and Jane with some relief. I know I do. My father is as he ever was. My days now are quite taken with duties associated with Longbourn. I meet with our steward almost daily – I fear my father's interest in the estate has declined greatly and it was never a pressing concern of his. I can, however, assure you that his health remains good. If you would be so kind as to share that confidence with my cousin, I would be extremely gratified._

 _Kitty, Mary and I have, perforce, become much closer. Mary has taken on the role of looking after my father and mother and I am quite content to leave much of the household duties to her charge. Kitty and I busy ourselves with the estate and Kitty has shown a surprising aptitude for the accounts and has quite taken on the tedious business of reconciling the expenditures and incomes of Longbourn. If there is a virtue to be found in this sad business, it is that our expenditures have declined appreciably and some additional monies are being aside to care for us when our father passes on. I can hope that it will be many years before such an unhappy event and, should that be the case, that we will be reasonably comfortable._

 _I remain your oldest and most affectionate friend,_

 _Elizabeth B._

With a sigh she folded and sealed it. Rising, she carried it downstairs to place with the rest of the post and, gathering her composure, joined her mother and aunt in the parlour. Her mother would return to Longbourn tomorrow and Elizabeth in a fortnight; she could take comfort that her stay there would be of short duration as she was to return to London to spend part of the season with her aunt and uncle. They still had hopes of finding her a husband and, though she had tired of the process and become quite discouraged at its lack of success, she would not spurn their efforts on her behalf.

 _ **Late May - Rosings Park, Kent, 1814**_

As so many of Darcy's evenings in the past two years, this one was spent in solitude. Georgiana, under the guidance of Countess Matlock, was successfully completing her first season. He had participated in many of the events, dancing with her and a few others, although his services as a dance partner had declined as the season progressed and his sister's circle of admirers had expanded. That none had captured her interest was a relief to him, as the thought that she might forsake his company on a permanent basis was not one that he considered happily. As a consequence, he found that he was able to remove himself, with an easy conscience, from those social activities which afforded him little pleasure. That he himself remained a source of interest to those young women seeking a husband was not unknown to him and he took little pleasure from their efforts. If he had any consolation, it was that some of the more persistent pursuers – including Caroline Bingley - had finally relinquished their hopes of attaching him. Caroline, for instance, was now in active pursuit of a Baron and Darcy confessed that his feelings contained an equal measure of gratitude and pity for that gentleman.

His Aunt Catherine had, for the first time in almost ten years, travelled to London in support of Georgiana to take part in the season. That Georgiana had borne her officiousness with considerable grace was a testament to her kindly nature. Darcy was not sure that he could have done so in her place. It was, in part, to give his sister relief from their aunt's attentions that Darcy had travelled back with Lady Catherine to Rosings. He had made his annual visit that Easter but was amenable to returning - a circumstance that puzzled Colonel Fitzwilliam greatly as he knew his cousin found little pleasure in their aunt's company. All would be made clear.

Colonel Fitzwilliam had accompanied him on each trip and both men had struggled to hide their dismay at their Cousin Anne's condition. Her health had worsened to such a degree that it should have been obvious, to even the blindest of observers, that, for her, marriage was not a possibility. And yet, Darcy's Aunt Catherine seemed blind to that reality and her allusions to a possible match with Darcy were as frequent as ever. Darcy finally resolved to speak to Anne without her mother's knowledge. The problem he faced was that he had, most assiduously, avoided being alone with his cousin; not because he feared an attempt from her to compromise him but that such a meeting would be deliberately misconstrued by his aunt and not to his advantage. To avoid making a proposal was one thing, refuting that an offer had been - or should be - made, quite another. The Colonel, however, was free to meet and talk with Anne as he wished. Lady Catherine had no interest in attaching her daughter to a second son who, even if the son of an earl, possessed few prospects. The Colonel had admitted, to Darcy only, that freedom from such aspirations was a relief; he liked his cousin well enough but her company was not such as to make attending her a source of much pleasure. Her health, and their aunt's over-protectiveness, had left Anne endowed with little knowledge, no accomplishments and a deficiency of conversation. If her mother could not wed her to Darcy, she was unlikely to marry at all.

To make such a meeting possible, Colonel Fitzwilliam arranged to walk outside with Anne, arriving at a private location where Darcy awaited them. Anne's health was such that even the short distance required for this walk had obviously tired her and she was quite willing to rest for some time before returning. The Colonel wandered off a short distance to afford them a semblance of privacy – although within hearing distance as Darcy wished to have a witness to the meeting. Anne looked up at her cousin and, to the surprise of her cousin, initiated the conversation.

"Richard indicated that you wished to speak with me, cousin."

"Yes. Yes, I did, Anne."

A silence lasted for several minutes as Darcy considered and discarded several possible openings.

"It seems to me, William, that you are having trouble finding the proper words. I find I have little patience with being overly circumspect these days. If you have something you wish to say, say it."

"Your mother is as resolved as ever about a possible match between us, Anne."

"And this surprises you?"

"I confess it does. I cannot believe that…."

Anne grimaced, "That she cannot or will not see that my health is poorer every year." There was a touch of bitterness in her voice as she continued, "But why should this bother you now, cousin? You have managed to ignore her wishes for five years or more. What has changed?"

Darcy was slightly surprised at the asperity in her voice, "Would you…were you expecting my proposal, Anne? I know we never talked of it but I thought we were of a like mind in this."

"We were, we are, William. Forgive my words. Your deliberate…obliviousness to my mother's wishes served us both well. I only wonder at why the matter is raised now?"

Darcy shook his head. "I cannot answer that to my satisfaction, Anne. I simply find myself reluctant to continue the charade. I think we do your mother no favours by allowing it to continue further, although I can give no reason for this opinion. It just seems wrong."

"It matters no longer to me, William. I have no wish to marry. Truthfully, I see no point. I cannot bear a child, manage an estate, and live anything approaching a normal life." Her eyes had been fixed on the ground in front of her as she spoke and when she finally raised them to look at her cousin; he could see her resignation and weariness as she asked, "What will you do?"

Darcy answered slowly, "If you have no objection – and I will not act against your wishes on this – I will inform your mother that I have no intentions of ever offering for you."

Anne sat in a contemplative silence for several minutes before rousing herself to respond, "Do as you will. I will not object."

Standing she reached for his arm for support as they began a slow return to Rosings. Colonel Fitzwilliam, who had been waiting some distance away, quickly joined them and took over the burden of polite conversation for the duration of the walk. It was a rather heavy burden since neither Darcy nor Anne was much inclined to conversation. Once Anne was safely sequestered in her chambers, the two gentlemen retired to the library where Darcy sketched his intentions. After some discussion, he agreed to postpone the fateful meeting with his aunt until the evening before their departure

That meeting took place as planned. The evening itself had been placid; the company of the Collinses was sufficient to allow his aunt to express her opinions to a willing audience, even if comprised of Mr. Collins only. Darcy had spoken briefly to Mrs. Collins and his cautious inquiries about the Bennets had, to his regret, provided little new information of their circumstances. Their reception in the neighbourhood remained poor and, being tied to Longbourn, they had no recourse but to suffer the censure. Escape to a friendlier neighbourhood was not a possibility.

Once the Collinses had departed via her ladyship's carriage, Anne retired to her rooms and Lady Catherine was about to do the same when Darcy requested to talk with her privately. Lady Catherine made no attempt to hide her surprise and, within a few moments, appeared greatly pleased at the request and granted it immediately. Neither Darcy nor Colonel Fitzwilliam had a problem discerning that she expected Darcy to offer for Anne. What other reason could there be for a private conference? The Colonel discretely took his leave, although not before giving Darcy an encouraging smile and wink.

Darcy waited till the door was firmly closed behind Fitzwilliam before beginning. "Aunt Catherine, I have requested this interview, although not for the reason I believe you are anticipating."

Lady Catherine was about to respond before she realized the significance of her nephew's words. Disappointment was chased from her features by puzzlement as she asked, "What do you mean, nephew? Of what then, are we to speak?"

"Aunt, you have continued to allude to a marriage between myself and Anne. You must realize surely that, even if I were inclined to such a match, which I am not, it is an impossibility. Surely you can see that?"

The confusion on Lady Catherine's visage was quickly replaced by anger as she retorted, "Impossible? I do not see this! How can you say such? From your infancy you have been meant for each other. It was the favourite wish of your mother and me. You are destined for Anne."

"Aunt, have you not observed Anne's condition? She is by no means capable of filling the duties of a wife, let alone those required by the mistress of an estate such as Pemberley."

"Nonsense, I tell you! Nonsense!"

"Aunt, I…."

Lady Catherine interrupted, "Fitzwilliam, I will hear no more. You and Anne will marry."

"Aunt, much as it grieves me to disappoint you, I must do so. I have never intended to offer for Anne. Had I chosen, or been willing, to do so, surely you realize that I would have done so before now."

Lady Catherine's anger had not abated, and indeed she was almost sputtering as she retorted, "But Anne is the most suitable bride you could find. You are formed for each other. You are descended on the maternal side from the same noble line; and, on the father's, from respectable, honourable and ancient, though untitled, families. The fortune on both sides is splendid. You are destined for each other by the voice of every member of your respective houses."

"All of that matters not, aunt. I am by neither honour nor inclination bound to my cousin. We will not wed. I would have you cease these representations."

"You intend to marry another, then! To ignore all claims to duty and responsibility to your family."

"I have no intentions to marry anyone, Aunt. At least, not at this time. I court no one nor have I paid any attentions to another young lady."

He could see his aunt trying to marshal more arguments or, most likely, as was her wont, to repeat those already presented in the hope, or expectation, that she could, by force of will and dint of repetition, bend him to her desires. He spoke before she could do so.

"Enough Aunt. Enough! I am my own master on this matter and I will not be persuaded otherwise. You would do well to pay attention to your daughter; for I fear that her health grows more precarious every year. On this, Richard is in agreement with me."

"What? What do mean. Anne is as healthy as ever she was!"

"No, Aunt. She is weaker and more frail this year than last. I fear for her life. Can you not see this? I have spoken with her and she knows it well."

Lady Catherine clamped her lips tight and Darcy could see that such news was neither welcomed nor accepted. With a shake of his head and a few last words, he took his leave of her.

He and his cousin dined alone at breakfast the next morning which Darcy could only interpret as a mark of his aunt's displeasure since she had always attended their departure in the past. As it turned out, this was not his last visit to Rosings. Lady Catherine did not receive so much attention from her relatives to wish to relinquish any that she had received in the past and so, while the Colonel continued to visit at Easter, Darcy was not to visit for several years. If Lady Catherine no longer alluded to a marriage between Darcy and her daughter, she was not averse to complaining occasionally to her relatives and others about the willfulness of nephews who failed in their duty to their family. When he once more visited his aunt, Darcy bore such strictures complacently and, in subsequent years, undertook to persuade his aunt to make Colonel Fitzwilliam her heir; and, if she had not initially decided in favour of the proposal, it had not been rejected outright as would likely have been the case in the past. She, in fact, did so some years after Anne's death.

 _ **Late May - Gracechurch Street, London, 1814**_

The disapprobation which the Bennet family faced following Lydia's ruin had lessened only slightly during the past year. Invitations to the Bennets were issued a little more often, and those extended by the family, sometimes accepted. Their only callers were Mrs. Philips and, occasionally, Lady Lucas whose sole purpose seemed to be to ensure that Mrs. Bennet not remain unaware that Mrs. Collins' situation with their cousin, Mr. Collins, was all that it should be. That Mrs. Collins had given birth to a son, who might one day inherit Longbourn, was of such importance as to require Lady Lucas to remind her friend, Mrs. Bennet, on every visit, for surely that lady would wish to be assured that the future heir was healthy and growing. If their plight had not been so poor, Elizabeth could almost have found amusement in her mother's reactions to such news; however, it was not and she could not, and it was only with the greatest difficulty that she refrained from harsh rejoinders to Lady Lucas' efforts – a restraint exercised only because Charlotte Collins remained Elizabeth's staunch friend. Indeed, the one valuable service provided by Lady Lucas was to take on the office of post to allow Charlotte to exchange letters with her. Mr. Collins had - at the instigation of Lady Catherine, Elizabeth was sure - forbidden any direct communication between Elizabeth and his wife. Lady Lucas was only reluctantly agreeable to facilitating the letter exchange, and Elizabeth would not endanger her involvement. No, Lady Lucas' gloating must be endured.

Charlotte's last letter was most interesting.

"… _.My husband is most perturbed on Lady Catherine's behalf. It appears that Lady Catherine and her nephew, Mr. Darcy, had a most serious disagreement on his last visit. Mr. Collins does not have all the particulars but will say only that Mr. Darcy is failing in his duty to his family and that Miss de Bourgh is being treated most unkindly. My husband is quite distressed on her behalf and is worried that she might never marry if Mr. Darcy will not do so. I can only assume that Mr. Darcy has rejected any attempts by her ladyship to promote a marriage with her daughter which, given the health of Miss de Bourgh, seems quite a sensible decision on the part of Mr. Darcy."_

" _He, Mr. Darcy, inquired about your family and his unhappiness at your family's situation was clear to me. I previously had informed him of Jane's marriage and he was pleased to learn that she and her husband had a daughter. His expression when I informed him that she had been named after you was…inexplicable, I believe, is the most appropriate word. I send to Jane, via you, his congratulations. I did mention, did I not, that he quite took my husband to task for suggesting that he would move quickly, at her ladyship's direction, to remove you all from Longbourn following your father's passing. I quite applaud Mr. Darcy's efforts and will certainly advise my husband to follow it. If we are fortunate, that unhappy event will not take place for many years. I am quite content with my current situation, I assure you….."_

Elizabeth could read such news about Mr. Darcy with only a mild twinge of regret. She could not expect him to direct his attentions to her now. Her rejection of his proposal, the vehemence and anger which accompanied her refusal and the ruin of her reputation by Lydia's actions precluded it. Her regrets now were simply that she had not been kinder in her refusal, and that she had so badly misjudged a man that she might very well have liked a great deal if she had allowed herself to know him. She had retained his letter and still, on occasion, had cause to read it. For what purpose she knew not, for it simply reaffirmed how foolish and blind she had been.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 6**

 _ **Early June, 1814 - Near Malmesbury, Wiltshire**_

The weather had co-operated most wonderfully. Their travel through Wiltshire had been so comfortable as to almost make each hour a pleasure. Their carriage could be opened and the beauties of the countryside availed of without hindrance. The temptation to pause on their route to enjoy a particular vista, or to walk through a charming hamlet, was never resisted. Salisbury and Stonehenge claimed a portion of their time and admiration but the prospect of other enjoyments drove them on. For the first time, the two eldest Gardiner children had been allowed to accompany their parents; their excitement and enthusiasm added to the pleasure of the adults and, if there was less room to be found inside the carriage, there was more than a sufficiency of pleasure to make the small discomfort quite bearable.

So it was until they reached the _ Inn which abutted the Tetbury Avon River – although Mr. Gardiner was to learn at the inn that it was known locally as the Ingleburn. Of more moment to her uncle was the information imparted as to the excellence of fishing there, and this information was quite enough to create a wish, on his part, to enjoy the sport. To his wife he did apply, and she, being quite willing to allow him this pleasure, readily consented to his spending the following day in his favourite sport.

And thus the next morning Mr. Gardiner departed, armed with the essential equipment to pursue his hapless quarry and with the knowledge, imparted by the innkeeper, of the best locations in which the objects of his affection could be found. In his absence, and in possession of the carriage, the ladies and children chose to wander around the surrounds and passed no few hours admiring the scenery and touring one of the more notable homes in Malmesbury to discover for themselves their attractions. Elizabeth found that she quite loved the places they visited and said as much to her aunt.

"I could settle here quite happily, I think. It reminds me of Meryton a little but without the unhappiness that I now associate with it." The last part was murmured to her aunt who nodded sympathetically and responded quietly so as to ensure her children, whose attention appeared to be fixed on a flock of sheep, did not hear.

"I fear that you will never feel the same about your home, Lizzy."

"No, I cannot feel comfortable with how my family has been treated. That we should be dealt with so at the hands of those we have always considered our friends has been painful. I am most eager to leave when the opportunity is presented and regret returning, when that is necessary. As well, I find Longbourn itself is no longer as welcoming as it was."

Mrs. Gardiner nodded. She needed no explanation as to why her niece should find her home so unwelcoming. She deplored the behaviour of her brother and his wife but none of her, or her husband's, remonstrances had made a difference. "We must find you a husband then, Lizzy!"

"Am I so difficult to please, aunt? Surely all I require is a gentleman with arms and legs enough and a mind that does not bore or disgust me. As long as he has a modest competence to support me and any children, I believe I would be quite content." She laughed, "I do not require, or expect to achieve, Jane's well-being and condition. It is only fitting that she be so blessed."

"I believe you rate yourself too poorly, Lizzy. I am determined to find a husband worthy of my favourite niece."

"I fear that you will be sorely disappointed, aunt. I have come to believe that no gentleman of worth will wish to wed one such as me."

Her aunt shook her head and forbore to argue the point with her niece. She was resolved, however, to have Elizabeth spend more time in London with her and with her sister and to organize more opportunities for her to meet suitable gentlemen. If her niece was determined to leave Longbourn and find a husband, she was sure that one who met Elizabeth's wishes would be discovered.

They had, by this time, returned to the inn. Appreciating the fact that a luncheon would soon be required, Mrs. Gardiner had the happy thought of a picnic. Believing herself to know where her husband had ventured, she planned for them to travel there and share the repast with him; for assuredly he must be hungry by this time. This plan was quickly agreed to by the others and, almost as quickly, put in place. A half hour found them travelling in the direction Mr. Gardiner had walked that morning and a quarter hour was sufficient to find him. To their surprise, he was not alone nor was he fishing. Instead he appeared most comfortably sitting with his back against a small tree and conversing with a gentleman. Several jars of the local ale appear to have been consumed and Mrs. Gardiner was heard by Elizabeth to wonder how much fishing her husband had accomplished that morning.

So agreeably wrapped in conversation were they that the two gentlemen did not appear to notice the approaching carriage and thus Mrs. Gardiner, with the assistance of their driver, came upon her husband quite by surprise.

"I wonder, Mr. Gardiner, how successful your fishing has been to find you so reposing. Have you spent the morning thus?"

Mr. Gardiner quite jumped with surprise, but his pleasure at her appearance could not be feigned and, if his expression of it was aided by the consumption of a jar - or two - of ale, Mrs. Gardiner was not of a mind to complain.

"Ah, Madeline, I am pleased to see you, my dear. Allow me to introduce you to Mr. Waring who finds equal enjoyment in fishing. He has been sharing some of his stories about his endeavours in the sport. Mr. Waring, my wife Madeline Gardiner."

Elizabeth, who had by this time arrived at her aunt's side, chuckled, "It would appear, uncle, that you have been sharing more than stories. That ale must have been uncommonly good to draw you away from the sport."

Mr. Gardiner laughed good-naturedly, "Mr. Waring, allow me to introduce you to my most impertinent niece, Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Elizabeth, Mr. Waring, who is, by his own account at least, a most superior fisherman."

Mr. Waring was a moderately handsome gentleman, somewhat taller than her uncle, well-built with dark hair showing tinges of grey. He appeared to be of an age with her uncle – about forty years – and looked to be an active sort of man. His manner, when he greeted them, was reserved and Elizabeth thought she detected that shyness lay behind it rather than any dislike of the company.

He greeted Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth with perfect composure, was pleased to be introduced to the Gardiner children and accepted with perfect civility an invitation to join them in their picnic – Elizabeth had to assume that the invitation was received with pleasure since his face did not display any marked signs that this was so. For, as Mrs. Gardiner assured him, "We have brought enough for twice our number; the addition of one to our party can only add to its enjoyment."

Elizabeth, with the intent of putting him at his ease, inquired of her uncle how they came to be acquainted. What ensued led to much laughter by them all as Mr. Gardiner's explanation was provided.

"'Twas all my fault, Lizzy. Mr. Waring and I were fishing on opposite sides of a small copse, each of us ignorant of the other. I allowed my line to entangle with Mr. Waring's to the dismay of us both."

Here Mr. Waring interjected, "My dismay, I assure you, was only that instead of a remarkably large fish at the end of my line, I found another fisherman. My disappointment was quite severe." Here he hesitated before resuming, "However, inasmuch as it has brought me into your company, I can have no cause to repine."

Inquiries by Elizabeth to the success of their fishing endeavours led to the gentlemen retrieving their fish boxes to display the fruits of their efforts which were loudly and enthusiastically praised by the rest of the company. Neither Mr. Waring nor Mr. Gardiner was inclined to allow the ladies and the children to separate after the picnic was over. Mr. Gardiner was interested in teaching his son the rudiments of fishing and Mr. Waring, in furthering, if possible, an acquaintance with the charming young niece of his new friend. Elizabeth had been so pleased with the day's activities and to observe the evident enjoyment that her uncle was experiencing with his favourite sport, that her liveliness and teasingly happy manners were on full, albeit unconscious, display. If she was unaware of the gentleman's attraction, her aunt was not and set out to determine more about him.

"From what little my husband has mentioned, it seems that you are quite familiar with …Ingleburn, I believe it is called? Do you fish here often, Mr. Waring?"

"Indeed, I do, Madam. As often as I can find time for it. I am fortunate that my situation allows me to enjoy the sport with greater frequency than is allowed most."

"Yes, my husband's one regret with his business is that it requires him to live in London and affords little time for this pleasure."

Elizabeth asked, "You must live close by then, Mr. Waring?"

He nodded, "I do indeed, Miss Bennet. My estate is but a mile or so distant. Easy walking distance and I take advantage of it whenever I can."

Elizabeth smiled, "You are doubly blessed then, sir. To live in the country and to have ready access to your favourite sport…" she shook her head again, "Doubly blessed, indeed!"

"I had not thought of it so, Miss Bennet, although I believe you are correct." He hesitated, wondering if his questions would be taken amiss, as presumptuous, perhaps. He ventured, "Do you live in London, with your aunt and uncle then, Miss Bennet?"

"No, although I love to visit them as often as may be. My home is in Hertfordshire. My father has an estate there – Longbourn."

Mrs. Gardiner thought to contribute at this point, "Lizzy favours us with her company every summer as we travel to various parts of the kingdom. We spent one summer in Derbyshire and last summer we visited Cornwall for six weeks."

"Did you enjoy the sea-bathing at St. Ives? It is not an overly popular spot I believe but I was told they have a few machines there. "

Elizabeth grinned, "I did, very much so, in fact. I could not, however, convince my aunt to join me."

Mrs. Gardiner shuddered theatrically, "To immerse oneself in cold water, I think not, my dear. I shall find my pleasures elsewhere."

Mr. Waring laughed softly, "I am afraid I am of Mrs. Gardiner's persuasion now, although I admit to enjoying the waters when I was younger."

Elizabeth looked at him. He did not appear to be that old to her or, at least, the difference in their ages did not appear to be of significance. What conversation they had shared marked him as having good understanding and intelligence. She wondered if he spent much time in London and cautiously asked, "With so many comforts here, I would think that you visit town but infrequently?"

"You are correct, Miss Bennet. I suppose I spend but a fortnight a year in London."

"Oh. Do you not find enjoyment in the theatre and exhibits that can be found there?"

"They are the only reason I travel there, Miss Bennet. But a single gentleman like myself, with no family and few acquaintances in the area, can find little to do."

The revelation that he was unattached was not missed by either lady and Mrs. Gardiner offered, "Well, I do hope that you will call on us when next you visit London. We would be delighted with your company." Not wanting to separate from the gentleman as yet, she continued, "I was hoping that you might dine with us this evening."

Mr. Waring was caught quite by surprise at this offer. A quick glance at Elizabeth suggested that the idea met with no discernible objections and his acceptance of the offer was given. Shortly thereafter, Mr. Gardiner returned and the two gentlemen resumed their efforts to deplete the fish population while the two ladies and the children contented themselves by walking the banks of the river. Neither lady was prepared to discuss Mr. Waring. Indeed, there was little to discuss and Elizabeth took comfort in knowing that, should her aunt harbour any match-making thoughts, they would be discrete and not of a type to embarrass her or Mr. Waring. She did not delude herself. The gentleman, she thought, had shown some interest in her and, apart from the difference in their ages which she would not allow to be significant, in his character and situation he might well satisfy her wishes for a husband. The need to be wed and settled was pressing upon her and she was beginning to feel it most keenly. If Mr. Waring was of a mind to pay his addresses to her, she would encourage him as best she could within the bounds of proper decorum. He was not unhandsome, he appeared to be of an amiable disposition, his love for country living could not but recommend him to her since, unlike her sister, she had no wish to live in London, and he gave some signs of intelligence – her uncle, after all, had found his company satisfactory enough to maintain the acquaintance which he need not have done. If they were to dine together this evening, she would have an opportunity to further sketch his character. She hoped that he would not disappoint.

Mr. Waring was required to separate from them for a time to refresh himself and don proper attire. He rejoined them about an hour before supper time, was greeted warmly by all upon his appearance and shortly thereafter found himself discussing the relative merits of Wiltshire over Hertfordshire which he had visited some years previous. Into this discussion, Mrs. Gardiner was not unwilling to defend the interests of Derbyshire as the most beautiful part of England and, as Elizabeth could not disagree that Derbyshire was more beautiful than Hertfordshire, she was perforce required to retire from defending her home county and join in the debate of the comparative merits of Wiltshire and Derbyshire. She endeavoured to do her part faithfully, changing her stance at least three times in the course of the discussion to argue for one county or the other as she felt the need. Finally, her aunt exclaimed, "Lizzy, what are you about? I am quite confused as to your preferences. Just when I think you have begun to support me against Mr. Waring's assertions, I find you arguing in his defence. You are a most unfaithful ally." Mrs. Gardiner shook her finger at Elizabeth in mock reproof.

Mr. Waring began to laugh, "Indeed, she is! I can see that the love of the debate has quite overset the topic being debated. Miss Bennet finds her enjoyment in teasing us all."

Elizabeth blushed slightly, suppressing her chuckles as much as possible, "It is the truth. My dear father plagued me for years with such a tactic until I realized he derived amusement from my frustration. It did, however, have the virtue of teaching me to see the different sides of an argument."

"And, I assume" said Mr. Waring, "how best to dispatch a point of view or position with which you disagree strongly."

Elizabeth nodded. Mr. Gardiner took the opportunity to begin a discussion of their trip to Cornwall which lasted until they were called to supper. The meal was as good as could be expected under the circumstances and the fact that the Gardiners had secured a private room allowed the company to relax. Good company and intelligent conversation more than offset any deficiencies in the supper itself, and Elizabeth was pleased to find that Mr. Waring was as intelligent and knowledgeable as he first appeared. The presence of children at the table did not inhibit the conversation unduly and it flowed easily to cover theatre, books, travel, and - for the brief time allowed by Mrs. Gardiner – politics. He spoke quietly and with considerable knowledge on most topics and, where his information was lacking, was not ashamed to admit of his ignorance and listen to others more knowledgeable. Elizabeth found herself, once or twice, professing a contrary view just to ascertain his reaction. That he disagreed with her was clear but that he respected her opinion and the right to express it became no less clear.

The ease the four adults found in their companions caused them to linger over their meal and, once Mrs. Gardiner had seen the children to their rooms to sleep, a desire to continue was easily gratified as they moved to the sitting room. It was with some regret that the lateness of the hour at last required Mr. Waring's departure; however, before taking his leave, an invitation to visit his estate – Oaksley – the next afternoon and stay to dine with him that evening, was issued and accepted with alacrity. That the gentleman had displayed an interest in her niece had been discerned clearly now by Mrs. Gardiner and that information, conveyed in private to her husband, would have induced a willingness on their part to further the acquaintance even if they had been less well disposed to the man himself. To identify their niece's feelings on the matter was more difficult. Elizabeth had always been guarded in displaying her interests and her lively nature had frequently allowed her to mask a dislike of particular individuals. In this instance, they had seen nothing but an inclination to enjoy the gentleman's company. And that would do quite well for the moment.

The next day found them travelling to Mr. Waring's estate after luncheon. In less than a half hour, their coach was drawing up to the entrance of Oaksley Manor, a fine house built of light coloured stone. In size it appeared to be slightly larger than Longbourn, but considerably older, although one wing did appear to have been constructed more recently. The surrounding grounds gave it a most pleasing appearance with gardens that, if sculpted by human hands, had been allowed to retain much of their natural appearance. Accepting Mr. Waring's hand as she stepped down from the coach, Elizabeth found herself drifting away from the others, who were being greeted by Mr. Waring, to view more closely the park in which the manor house was situated. It was a pleasing prospect and one she wished she could explore.

Mr. Waring had noticed Elizabeth's interest and, wishing to gratify it, offered to conduct a tour of the park's grounds.

"Miss Bennet, I remember that you expressed a preference for walking the paths and trails that abound near your home. Perhaps I might be allowed to show you and your relations a small part of the beauties of Oaksley?"

Elizabeth looked at her aunt who gave a slight nod and replied, "We would be delighted, Mr. Waring."

"The Park is three miles round. We might venture it, if it is not too far." Mr. Waring looked with some uncertainty at Mrs. Gardiner who gave a slight smile and assured him that, while she could not equal her niece's proficiency as a walker, a distance of three miles was not beyond her capabilities.

Mr. Waring accepted Mrs. Gardiner's assurances with pleasure and, offering Elizabeth and the Gardiner's daughter an arm each, led the way followed closely by the Gardiners and their son. It took but ten minutes for the latter to grow impatient with the pace being set by his elders and scamper ahead to explore the grounds more closely. Within five minutes, he was joined by his sister and their happy chatter drifted back to the others trailing behind.

Mr. Waring proved himself an excellent guide, taking the time to remark on the various plants that could be seen, answering questions from them all, and leading them to several points from which attractive vistas could be seen. Nothing seemed too small for his attention and yet it was knowledge based on an obvious love for, and pride in, his estate and all that it contained. While he addressed the questions of them all, Elizabeth could not help but feel he was displaying his estate to her in particular. It seemed that he wished her to appreciate it and she wondered at his object. Their acquaintance was so brief that she could hardly believe him to have formed an attachment so soon - interest possibly, but an attachment? With more calmness of mind than she thought possible, such conjectures were put aside for the moment and she strove to focus on her present situation.

Their pace was so leisurely, and the stoppages to admire some particular aspect of the park so frequent, that two hours had passed before they returned. At length, however, the manor house was before them and the heat of the day such as to make everyone wish for refreshments. A terrace had been constructed towards the back of the house which overlooked a charming prospect of rolling hills dotted with livestock, groups of trees and the scattered dwellings. Cool drinks were greeted with considerable enthusiasm and a desire to relax and simply enjoy their ease, found common cause with all but the children who were placed in the care of Mr. Waring's groom and taken to the stables. The prospect of riding a small horse had captured Master Gardiner's interest and his sister was also interested although as to whether she could be induced to actually ride a horse was uncertain.

Their absence allowed the Gardiners, Elizabeth and Mr. Waring to recapture the easy conversation that they had enjoyed the evening before. Elizabeth could not remember when she had experienced such pleasure in simple discourse. While she was aware of her own abilities in this area and knew her aunt and uncle to be intelligent and amiable conversants, it was Mr. Waring who had surprised her. Her initial impression of his reticence had not been disproven. From what she could detect, he was not one inclined to converse pointlessly. On topics in which he had an interest, his opinions and comments were tendered openly, if succinctly.

They had been talking quite freely for almost an hour before she realized that he had, most skillfully, extracted much more information about her and her situation than she realized. While she had not disclosed the disgrace her family shared, her unhappiness with her home could not have escaped his notice. It had been inadvertently done and she hoped it would not reflect poorly on her. She tried to remember how much she might have revealed and took some small comfort that her unhappiness may have been disclosed more by her tone of voice and expression than by any specific comment.

Yet it seemed not to bother Mr. Waring at all and she observed no obvious reluctance on his part to continue talking to her. She decided to put her worries aside and concentrate on avoiding further disclosures – at least until she knew him better. To this end, she began to address herself to the task of learning more about Mr. Waring himself and, since she could hardly inquire directly about his family, she could ask about his estate, his tenants, crops and livestock. Her familiarity with the business of Longbourn, which had increased in direct proportion to the withdrawal of her father's participation in managing the estate, allowed her to ask such questions which might properly be the province of another estate owner and certainly were not, in polite society, considered proper conversation for a lady. The Gardiners, recognizing her purpose and the gentleman's willingness to oblige their niece, withdrew slightly from the conversation and took the opportunity to watch the other two more closely.

Elizabeth hardly knew why she was behaving so. She had been introduced by her aunt and uncle to quite a number of gentlemen over the past few years. Towards none of them had she showed anything other than polite interest. She could not remember any attempt, or interest, on her part to better understand any of the gentlemen. As she wondered why was she behaving so differently now, she realized she had missed some portion of the conversation and brought her attention back to where it belonged. Fortunately, the subject was one that required no response from her and she was satisfied that her lapse had passed unnoticed. She would address the question of her purpose later, when time would allow such deliberations.

An invitation to view the house was rendered and accepted; Mr. Waring was shortly guiding a tour of the various rooms which showed themselves to be of a good size, tastefully but simply furnished with materials and furniture that was well made but clearly, in many instances, of some age. It was a comfortable dwelling and one in which Elizabeth felt very much at home. Of the specific rooms that they were shown, she remembered little. Only the library captured her attention. That he showed it to them was unusual she knew; most homes that they had toured considered the library to be part of the family quarters and not open to public viewing.

Upon entering the library, she quite forgot about her companions. It was an excellent room, warmly furnished in dark panelling with shelves lining three of the walls, a fireplace with two comfortable armchairs placed companionably in front and a large window overlooking the terrace beyond. She wandered down one wall, fingers brushing the spines of the books, pausing once or twice to extract a book to read its title, and was so obviously entranced as to lose quite thoroughly the conversation between the others in the room. She was only drawn back by her uncle's words, spoken loudly enough – and purposefully so, she was sure – to gain her attention.

"I believe we have lost Lizzy for the evening, Mr. Waring! There is no room as precious to her as a library."

Mr. Waring only smiled.

Elizabeth did not refuse the opportunity to express her appreciation. "You have reason to be proud, Mr. Waring. My father would be enthralled were he to see it; I think I have seen only one that is finer. It casts his quite into the shadows." She laughed, "It would be best if he did not see it. We might never get him to return to Longbourn."

"I am pleased that it meets with your approval, Miss Bennet. I own to spending many hours here."

"You have taken a great deal of effort in building this library, Mr. Waring, have you not?"

"Yes I have. But how did you know?"

"Although I have scanned but a few of the books here, many appear to be of recent publication."

"I cannot countenance the neglect of a library." Elizabeth started at his phrase, so reminiscent of one uttered by Mr. Darcy.

"Miss Bennet?"

Her reaction had not escaped Mr. Waring's attention.

"'Tis nothing, Mr. Waring. I was simply remembering the words of another gentleman who, much like yourself, was devoted to his library."

If Mr. Waring was perturbed by her response, he masked it well and their tour continued until the arrival of a footman to announce that dinner would be ready in a half hour brought a closure to it. The children were recalled and rooms provided to refresh themselves; and, at the appointed time, they gathered once more to dine. Elizabeth could later recall little of the meal itself. It had been a lively evening, the happy good spirits of the children, although moderated by the manners ingrained in them, would allow for nothing less. Mr. Waring appeared to enjoy it all in his restrained manner. Elizabeth could see that his was not a demeanour given to exuberance, but his pleasure in his company was revealed in the small smile he wore and his not infrequent teasing of the children. Clearly, he was not unused to children and yet she saw no signs of a woman's touch around his home. Elizabeth was a little more withdrawn during the meal, content to observe more than participate. Nonetheless, when called upon to contribute, she did so and earned her share of the gaiety.

All too soon the dinner was complete. The lateness off the hour, a need to ensure that the children were ensconced in their beds at the proper time, combined with a reluctance on Mr. Gardiner's part to travel at night, were sufficient to persuade him to not delay overlong before returning to their inn. It was with obvious reluctance that Mr. Waring agreed, but then, with a considerable amount of uncertainty in his manner, he made a rather astonishing offer to Mr. Gardiner.

"I have quite enjoyed the company of you and your family these past two days. I do not often have visitors and I must admit that I found your company very much to my taste. Oaksley has not heard the happy sound of children for too many years." He paused for a moment of two. "I understand that you plan to remain here for another s'ennight complete."

Mr. Gardiner nodded his agreement, obviously puzzled as to Mr. Waring's purpose.

"Ah…I was wondering if you would care to stay here. I have rooms enough for you all and you can as readily explore the area from here, as from the inn. I believe that my cook is superior to theirs and the rooms better." The last was tendered with a small grin.

His desire for them to accept his offer was palpable. He looked at both Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner hopefully. Mrs. Gardiner could see no indication of reluctance on the part of Elizabeth to stay and her children were quite enthused by the idea of having access to the stables and the freedom of the Park. A simple nod to Mr. Gardiner and the deed was done. The Gardiners and Elizabeth were to come and take up residence the following morning. If Mr. Waring had a purpose other than the pleasure of their company, it was one that only he knew, although Mrs. Gardiner's suspicions had now been more fully aroused.

The trip back to the inn was quiet - even the children were tired from their exertion. Within a half hour of entering their rooms both were fast asleep and the adults could remove to their private sitting room to discuss the day's happenings. Mrs. Gardiner was familiar enough with her niece to recognize that some part of her behaviour was uncharacteristic. She had rarely seen her so focussed on another person. That it was a gentleman made the situation replete with possibilities. She also knew Elizabeth well enough to accept that overt questioning might well cause her to be more circumspect in her behaviour. So her first comments were directed to her husband.

"I believe you anticipate spending more time fishing, Edward."

"Indeed I do. I so rarely have the opportunity to indulge myself."

"I will not be so unkind as to deprive you of the sport or Mr. Waring's company." She glanced at Elizabeth, "I believe Lizzy and I can find sufficient amusement in the park to pass the hours quite enjoyably. Can we not, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth smiled, "I would not dream of asking you to forsake such pleasures, Uncle. Mr. Waring's park has, I believe, enough paths and trails that even a s'ennight might be insufficient to explore them all."

Mrs. Gardiner smiled, "And the children will be quite delighted to ride, if Mr. Waring permits it."

"I cannot believe Mr. Waring would refuse them the pleasure, Aunt."

"Nor do I. He appears to be quite an amiable gentleman although perhaps a little reticent or shy."

Elizabeth nodded, "He talks easily enough though, on subjects of interest to him."

Mr. Gardiner interjected, "I found him to be quite interesting. He apparently has travelled widely. His opinions on those places we have both visited mirror my own in many respects. He was most interested in our trips to Derbyshire and, particularly, Cornwall, which he apparently has yet to visit. We spoke a great deal of that trip."

"Perhaps he shall visit there." suggested Elizabeth.

"Perhaps."

A silence that lasted several minutes fell over them. Each had thoughts which absorbed their attention. Mr. Gardiner's were relatively uncomplicated. He had not exhausted his enjoyment in fishing and was already planning his next outing. On those few occasions he could indulge in the sport, he had fished alone. The company of Mr. Waring was enjoyable, not least because the latter knew when conversation was appropriate and when it would disturb the sport itself.

Mrs. Gardiner's thoughts were focused on her niece who was sitting quietly on the settee, a book in her hands; but, as a page had yet to be turned, she doubted not that those of her niece were elsewhere. While she would not ask her to share them with her, it might be possible to discover where they tended.

"What think you of Mr. Waring's invitation, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth was startled by her aunt's question and her response was hesitant, "I…it was a most generous gesture, Aunt."

"Indeed, it was."

Mr. Gardiner's attention was captured by his wife's question, "I admit to being quite surprised by it. I had not expected such civility. It is a singular honour to be invited to stay. Not every landowner will be so gracious to one who derives his living from trade."

Elizabeth nodded her agreement, "I believe Mr. Waring places little stock in such considerations, Uncle."

"Well, you should know better than I, Lizzy. You spoke to him quite extensively this afternoon."

Elizabeth flushed slightly, "I hope you think there was nothing improper in our conversation, Uncle?"

"No, No! I know you too well, Lizzy, to believe such to be possible. I heard nothing that I would consider improper. Perhaps unusual, as I suspect few young women are as versed in the subject of estate management as yourself; but Mr. Waring did not seem to object."

"Quite the reverse!" offered Mrs. Gardiner.

Elizabeth looked at her aunt and uncle in some confusion, "I beg your pardon?"

Mrs. Gardiner smiled, "Nothing, dear. Only that Mr. Waring did not appear at all distressed at discussing such matters with you."

Mr. Gardiner rose, stretched and was about to suggest that they retire when something occurred to him. "I wonder, Madeline, if we might visit Malmesbury Abbey tomorrow after luncheon. Perhaps Mr. Waring would consent to be our guide."

This suggestion met with the approval of the two ladies and they all shortly retired to the privacy of their bedchambers, each to their own thoughts.

The next morning found them packing for the move to Oaksley Manor, a feat undertaken after breaking their fast. Thus it was that two hours before noon found them drawing up once more to the entrance to the manor house. Several footmen, under the direction of the butler, were charged with unloading and carrying all the trunks to the appropriate rooms. Mr. Waring himself, accompanied by his housekeeper, a stern-faced woman of some fifty years, undertook to acquaint them with their chambers which, upon being entered, met with the approval of all his visitors. Elizabeth was particularly charmed by her room which was simply but pleasantly outfitted in comfortable furnishings and light bright colours. She did not fail to express her delight to Mr. Waring but a comment from her young cousin deflected her attention and she missed the look of pleasure upon Mr. Waring's countenance. Neither Mrs. Gardiner nor the housekeeper was as unobservant and both retained the information for further consideration. Mrs. Gardiner did catch a speculative glance or two at her niece by the housekeeper but could find nothing in that lady's mien to determine whether her niece met with her approval. Mrs. Gardiner was not insensible to the fact that the opinions of a loyal servant – and the housekeeper had apparently worked for the Waring family for more than twenty years – could have an importance out of proportion to her position in life. If her musings were correct, it might be important for this woman to like and appreciate Elizabeth.

 _ **June, 1814 - Darcy House, London**_

Darcy's return to London after his visit to Rosings, quickly found him once more engaged in escorting his sister to the various events that comprised the season. About a week following his return, he dined at the home of a gentleman he had known since his college days. Married now and the father of a growing family, he and his wife remained amongst his closest and most welcome friends. Darcy had accepted their invitation knowing that the company would provide amiable and intelligent conversation. Henry and Alice Goodwell encouraged free ranging discussions and tonight, to no one's true surprise, much of the conversation centred on the conclusion to the war against Napoleon and the signing of the Treaty of Chaumont. The ladies were no less eager to voice their opinions than the gentlemen and more than one couple indicated their intention to tour the continent now that peace had been established and the French tyrant assigned to Elba.

Darcy, who was seated to the left of Mrs. Goodwell, had listened to the conversation, occasionally interjecting a comment where appropriate, but for the most part content to observe. During a lapse in the discussion, Mrs. Goodwell turned her attention to him and asked, "And what of you, Mr. Darcy? Do you intend to travel to the continent?"

"I think not, madam. I expect to spend my summer at Pemberley."

One of the other guests, Mr. Holmes, also a close acquaintance of Darcy, retorted, "I thought you had other plans. I spoke with Gervaise House last week and he claimed that you declined his invitation to visit his estate this summer. A prior commitment, I believe?"

Darcy was slightly embarrassed. "Not quite, I believe I indicated that my plans were uncertain."

Mrs. Goodwell, who knew Gervaise House quite well, murmured, "Would the presence of Gervaise's unmarried sister contribute to the uncertainty of such plans, Mr. Darcy?"

Her sally drew a small smile from Darcy "Let us just say that I would not want to excite any ambitions I have no intention of fulfilling."

The conversation drifted onto other topics and Darcy quite forgot the matter until he was approached by his host as he was preparing to leave.

"Darcy, my wife tells me that you are quite at leisure this summer with no fixed plans. If that is the case, you might wish to visit us for a month or so. I can promise you no unmarried sisters, cousins or any other unattached females other than my mother. You and your sister would be most welcome, I assure you. What say you?"

Darcy took but a moment to consider his friend's offer. A month's visit in Shropshire had its attractions and it was to an area which he had not previously visited. "I think, Goodwell, that I would be very well pleased to visit you and your wife. I will have to speak to my sister to confirm that she will join us but I know of no other commitment on her part."

"When shall we expect you then?"

After some discussion, it was agreed that he might visit in July and and stay for six weeks for, as Mrs. Goodwell promised, "A merry party we shall make with my brother and his wife visiting and you and your sister."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 7

 _ **Mid-June, 1814 - Oaksley Manor, near Malmesbury, Wiltshire**_

It is not the point of the story to narrate the many places that the Gardiners and Elizabeth visited during their stay at Oaksley Manor. Despite having estate business to claim his time and his not infrequent sorties with Mr. Gardiner to inflict further damage on the fish population in the area, Mr. Waring was more than content to act as their guide. They did indeed tour Malmesbury Abbey, visited Trowbridge, the remains of Trowbridge Castle and, of course, several woollen industries. For, as Mr. Gardiner asserted, "I am a tradesman, after all!"

While the gentlemen fished, the ladies and children enjoyed the grounds of the estate and passed their time quite satisfactorily. The evenings generally found them ensconced in the drawing room. Their amusements were varied: Elizabeth could, on occasion, be persuaded to entertain them with music on the pianoforte; a common enjoyment in whist was discovered; but, more often than not, conversation was their main pleasure. If Mr. Waring was not Mr. Gardiner's equal in garrulousness, he was more than capable of holding his own in any conversation, whether the subject were literature, plays, poetry, travel and, not infrequently, politics. His was not a mind to believe that women did not, and should not, have opinions on political matters and was more than ready to discuss the issues with both Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner. Not only did Elizabeth enjoy the discourse, she found that from his knowledge she could expand her own. Her respect for his knowledge and his character grew as she came to know him better.

The time for their return home approached and they were to leave the next morning to head south towards Shaftsbury before wending their way back to London. Mr. Waring had been uncharacteristically quiet all day. While usually reticent, his inattentiveness and quiet drew the notice of the Gardiners and Elizabeth, all of whom believed it to be caused by their imminent departure. They were proven correct after the children had been sent to bed when Mr. Waring finally spoke.

"Miss Bennet, there is a book in the library I wish to show you. Would you have a look at it with me?" He turned to the Gardiners, "We shall be no more than a few minutes, I assure you."

Mr. Gardiner looked at him for a moment, his countenance a careful mask. Elizabeth was not sure if he was hiding glee, amusement or some other emotion but she and her relatives knew that this was not a simple request to consider a book. After the briefest of pauses, Mr. Gardiner nodded and Mr. Waring offered his arm to lead Elizabeth to the library.

Once they had entered, Mr. Waring ensured that the door remained partially opened and then directed Elizabeth to the window overlooking the terrace, now shrouded in darkness and lit only from the faint light coming from their window. They could be seen from the doorway but any conversation, if conducted in reasonable tones, would be unheard.

Elizabeth waited. She did not know whether he was to offer for her or ask for a courtship. In either case, her answer would be the same. He took several moments to gather his thoughts.

"Miss Bennet. I have, I admit, asked you here under false pretences. I am not sure if you realize how much I have enjoyed your company during your stay at Oaksley or how much I regret that you must leave tomorrow." He gathered himself and once more his gaze fixed on the view through the window. "I am not a young man…No! No! Let me be truthful." He did not allow Elizabeth to interrupt, "I am perhaps twenty years your senior. I do not have the impetuosity of youth but I have learned to know my own mind. I wish to ask you a particular question but I think - no, I believe - it is too soon. We, neither of us, know the other well enough yet to make irrevocable decisions." He stopped for a second or two before switching his gaze to her face. "Would you consent to a courtship, Miss Bennet?"

Elizabeth gathered her courage. She quite liked this gentleman and rather thought he would make her an admirable husband. However, while she had no wish to discourage his attentions, there was an issue that could not be hidden from him – her honour would not allow for that - but she did not feel herself in enough command when discussing it to be able to do so calmly.

"Mr. Waring, I would be pleased to accept a courtship. I have come to feel a considerable admiration for you as well. But… there is a matter you must be informed about that may cause you to rescind your offer, sir. She paused and looked at him. His confusion was obvious. "May I call my uncle to join us? I believe he can impart the information to you better than I. Once you hear my uncle, please be assured that I will quite understand if you change your mind."

Mr. Waring quickly agreed and a footman sent to request Mr. Gardiner's presence. That gentleman, accompanied by his wife, was shortly shown into the library and quickly apprised of the offer and Elizabeth's request.

"Uncle, I cannot speak of Lydia calmly and ask that you explain the matter to Mr. Waring."

Mrs. Gardiner took Elizabeth by the hand and sat with her while retaining her grasp. Mr. Gardiner looked at his niece and nodded before turning to Mr. Waring. "Please excuse my niece, Mr. Waring. Understand that what has concerned her has, in truth, little to do with her directly. You see, her youngest sister…"

Mr. Gardiner then explained all that had happened with Lydia Bennet, her purported elopement, her loss and the damage to the reputation of the Bennet family.

Mr. Waring was thoughtful for several seconds after Mr. Gardiner finished before turning to Elizabeth, "My dear girl, this is why you are so unhappy when discussing your home! I now understand." He shook his head smiling, "I see no impediment. None at all. So you have accepted my courtship, then?"

At Elizabeth's nod and smile, he turned to Mr. Gardiner. "I suppose I need your consent? Or Mr. Bennet's?"

"Elizabeth is of age, of course, so my consent is not really required but I give it anyway. My Brother Bennet will also agree although I see no reason for concerning him at this stage."

The remainder of the evening was devoted to determining the particulars of the courtship. The Gardiners were persuaded to extend their sojourn at Oaksley Manor for several days before retracing their route back to London. Instead of returning to Longbourn and her family after reaching London, Elizabeth would reside with the Simmonses, who, by this time, would have returned to London. Mr. Waring would travel to London a week later and stay with the Gardiners.

However, there was one thing Elizabeth wished to know quite urgently. "If we are to court, I do not believe that I can continue to address you as Mr. Waring or Sir. Pray, what is your Christian name?"

The teasing quality of her request robbed it of any impropriety that he might have thought it contained, "Anthony ….. Elizabeth. My name is Anthony Waring."

"Anthony." She savoured the name, "I like it. I would not have thought you as an Anthony, but I find it suits you quite well."

"Well, I find I have quite gotten used to it by now ….Elizabeth."

"As shall I …Anthony!"

 _ **Late June, 1814 - Sloane Street, London**_

To her delight, upon her arrival in London, Elizabeth discovered that her sister had returned, but a few days previous, from Ramsgate where she, her husband and their babe had enjoyed the sea air. Jane's spirits were high and she was looking forward to returning to the comforts of her own household. The news that her favourite sister was coming to stay with her and her reasons for doing so, only added to Jane's delight.

The Gardiners and Elizabeth were invited to dine with the Simmonses the night after their return. The highlight of their dinner was young Elizabeth Simmons who was brought into their company and admired by all. Everyone agreed that she had grown a great deal during her stay in Ramsgate. She did not stay long in their company; the young lady seemed rather bemused by the attention and became increasingly sleepy, so she was shortly thereafter returned to the nursery.

While their tour was described in some detail, the major interest of the Simmonses was fixed upon Elizabeth's courtship. The Gardiners were quite enthusiastic in their endorsement of Anthony Waring and Jane could see that her sister had developed some feelings for the gentleman; however, when apprised of his age, Jane cast a worried look at Elizabeth. Although Jane refrained from commenting upon the difference in their ages, Elizabeth knew her sister too well to expect that the subject would not be addressed, and rather sooner than otherwise. In one sense, she was relieved to be returning to the Gardiners' home for the night and would not take residence with her sister for several more days. Unfortunately, any hopes Elizabeth might have harboured for a respite were lost when her sister declared that she would visit her the next morning for a full disclosure.

"Do not think, Lizzy, that you shall avoid me. I will know it all!" Jane looked at her aunt with a mock serious cast to her gentle features, "I will expect your support on this, Aunt. She shall not escape my questioning."

Mrs. Gardiner began to chuckle, "Indeed, I would not dare. Shall I lock her in her room till you arrive?"

Elizabeth huffed, "I have no secrets. I shall disclose anything you wish. Whatever you wish me to say, I will say."

Jane shook her head, "She is starting already. But I will be relentless on this. You are warned, Lizzy."

Mr. Simmons looked rather puzzled at this exchange. He did not know his new sister well enough to take her full measure, although he had come to quite like her. He certainly did not think her particularly secretive. His wife noticed his puzzlement and responded, "My dear husband, you have yet to learn that my sister Elizabeth is very adept at hiding her closest thoughts with jests, misdirection and other contrivances."

Elizabeth huffed again, "I beg you to notice that I am here in the room."

"I am simply informing your brother as to the character of his sister, Lizzy."

Elizabeth was finally able to persuade the others to cease their teasing by asking Jane about their vacation. While Elizabeth's thoughts immediately recalled that Mr. Darcy's sister had almost been persuaded by Wickham to elope from Ramsgate, such memories should not detract in any way from her own sister's enjoyment. If Jane remembered any such painful thoughts, it was not obvious from the way she described the sights and the excursions they had made. From the occasional blushes on her sister's countenance, she rather suspected that many of her most pleasurable moments could never be shared – not even with a most beloved sister. A small pang of jealousy entered her thoughts but was as quickly banished. She would not envy her sister her felicity, but look forward to the possibility of her own.

True to her words, Jane was ushered into the Gardiner household the next morning at the early hour of nine to find her sister and cousins still at the breakfast table. Elizabeth was allowed to finish her meal, enjoy a quick cup of tea and then was bustled upstairs to her bedroom where, as her elder sister phrased it, "I will have all the details, Lizzy. All of them!"

Elizabeth made no serious protest. In truth, she wished to discuss the courtship. Any reluctance she might feel was in knowing whether her sister or her aunt was the better confidante. She had rather hoped to discuss it with her aunt first, but an opportune moment had not presented itself and her sister was here now and looking for answers.

Elizabeth climbed on her bed and sat with her back resting against the headboard while Jane brought a chair next to the bed upon which to sit. Fixing her sister with as stern a glance as she could manage, Jane finally broke the silence.

"He is twenty years your senior, Lizzy. What are you about?"

"Is his age your only concern?"

"I do not know him at all, but should his age not be a concern?"

"I could wish he were younger but there are so many other good parts to him that his age seems to me to be unimportant."

"I do not understand."

"He is intelligent and thoughtful, he treats me and my opinions with respect, and he is not ill-looking at all – quite the reverse actually - which you must admit a man should be if at all possible. He also has a decent competence to provide for me and any children we might have." She turned briefly thoughtful, "I do not know his income – perhaps uncle does – it was never mentioned nor should it have been."

"And?"

Elizabeth looked puzzled, "And? ….well he prefers the country to town – a point on which we agree, his house is very nicely furnished which suggests he has good taste, his library is excellent – our father would be quite envious - and his park has delightful trails." She paused for effect, "And there is one aspect of his character which must recommend him to you." The grin that accompanied these words drew an almost involuntary response from Jane.

"And that is?"

"He esteems me enough to wish to court me!"

Jane laughed, "This is a positive aspect? I might wonder if it is not a flaw!" She regarded her sister as she chuckled at that sally but her mien gradually became more sombre.

"You have spoken of many things, Lizzy; but not of your feelings."

Elizabeth sighed, "You wonder if I love him?"

Jane nodded. Her eyes remained fixed on her sister's face. Elizabeth considered her answer. She had no reason to doubt that Jane had found love with her husband. Her heart, so badly damaged by Mr. Bingley, had finally healed and loved again. That Jane wished equal felicity in marriage for her sister, Elizabeth did not doubt. For her part, Elizabeth was quite uncertain as to state of her feelings.

"Is that not the purpose of a courtship? To allow a couple to determine whether a marriage is possible?"

"Lizzy, I will not dispute the purpose of a courtship. That was not my question and, you, I believe, are evading an answer."

Elizabeth knew that indeed she was avoiding an answer for her sister and suddenly realized that, on this matter, she needed the more pragmatic counsel of her aunt. Jane, she knew, would be unhappy on her behalf if she entered a marriage where she did not love her partner and Elizabeth would not be able to convince her sister she was in love if she had not convinced herself first. She did not know how Jane would respond if told that her sister planned to enter a marriage for prudent reasons – that she esteemed her future husband but did not love him. Whether she could or would ever do so, was not known to her although she believed that love could develop in a marriage founded on mutual respect. No, she would have to placate her sister and seek counsel from her aunt.

"As to love, I hardly know yet, Jane. I hardly know."

 _ **Late June - Early July, 1814 - Sloane Street, London**_

Mr. Waring arrived in town on the day expected. Of the courtship that ensued, there was not much to be said. Mr. Bennet was written to by Mr. Waring informing him of the courtship and Mr. Gardiner's consent. In his usual indolent style, Mr. Bennet waited near a fortnight to respond, acknowledging the letter and stating that, although his consent was not required, he had no objections to the courtship. With his daughter he communicated not at all.

Mr. Waring called every day at the Simmonses' home and, while the rules of propriety were generally observed, neither he nor Elizabeth felt overly concerned when out in public. The weather was, for the most part, sufficiently fine so as to allow long walks and, as such activity fitted both their preferences, they felt free to indulge themselves as often as was possible. The opportunity thus created to talk and explore each other's likes and dislikes was seized and few topics escaped their attention. It was soon apparent that they held differing opinions on subjects as frequently as their opinions coincided but a respect and consideration for the other's position ensured that arguments did not lead to disagreeableness between them. In fact, such contention gave a flavour to their discussions that was quite enjoyable. He challenged her and forced her to rethink some of her opinions and it was to her satisfaction that she realized she returned the favour, albeit less frequently. Elizabeth soon found that her suitor was more apt than her father to explain his position when they disagreed rather than dismiss it with a sardonic comment – a trait Mr. Bennet displayed increasingly since Lydia's disappearance.

On the subject of their respective families there was rather a lot to discuss. If Elizabeth expected Anthony Waring to view hers with disapprobation equal to that of Mr. Darcy, she was pleasantly surprised. Of course, as she realized, he had already met the Gardiners, and the Simmonses could not but recommend themselves to him. That many of her family had roots in trade was apparently offset in his eyes by their intelligence and gentility.

She reluctantly acquiesced in his determination to travel to Longbourn, alone, to further acquaint her father with his suit and to meet her sisters and mother. Upon his return, he was quite relaxed and amiable as he faced her questions.

Elizabeth had not accompanied him on the trip at his request and, in truth, she was not unhappy to be spared facing an uncertain interview with her father or the excited reaction of her mother. Her discomfit must have been more obvious than she expected; when she inquired about his visit the day after he returned, Waring moved to sit beside her on the settee and, with her hand in his, reassured her. "I will not have you worry about this, Elizabeth. I found nothing that would cause me the slightest concern. Your two sisters were very pleasant and I will enjoy getting to know them better."

Elizabeth interjected, "I do hope my mother was more moderate in her effusions than is her wont. Do you know, she quite despaired of any man wishing to court me? Of course, I have no doubt she began planning a wedding ceremony scant moments after learning we were courting and, for the first time, I probably became her favourite daughter."

"Your mother was definitely….enthusiastic. I am afraid I quite disappointed her, however, as I would not impart the size of my income or how many rooms there are in Oaksley Manor." He tried to hide the small moue of distaste that he felt at being so importuned. "You did warn me, did you not?"

Elizabeth's laugh reflected more embarrassment than humour, "For that I am thankful - if you had told her, all of Meryton would have known within a day. I remember how she behaved when Jane had a suitor paying attentions to her. She talked in public of them being married before the poor man had even proposed." She shook her head in dismay, remembering her feelings, "I doubt I was ever as embarrassed, before or since, as I was that evening."

Waring wondered at her disinterest in the question that her mother had so blatantly addressed, "You are not interested? In my income, that is?"

"I could see from Oaksley that you can provide a comfortable existence for a wife and family. Why would I need to know more?" and, with a cheeky grin, she added "and Mrs. Turner told me the number of rooms." She became serious again, "Should I need to know more, I have every confidence that you will tell me."

Waring smiled and then nodded thoughtfully, not displeased that this response was tendered with such ease and openness. He had known that she accepted his courtship from motives that contained a reasonable amount of prudence. Any sensible woman would do the same. However, nothing he had learned about her character would indicate mercenary desires. She was not a fortune hunter. Her revelation about her sister's Lydia's misfortunes, which a woman of a mercenary inclination would have endeavoured to hide, absolved her of the charge. He returned to his thoughts on her family.

"As I said, I found your mother's enthusiasms…. bearable. She showed, I thought, an honest pleasure at your good fortune and happiness. Your father, however…"

"Yes, my father." Elizabeth was not surprised at her father's reaction. The chasm that had grown between them over the last few years remained. Her father's injured pride and his anger at her disappointment in both his past and current behaviour had not abated. She could only wonder that the prospect of her permanent removal from his house did not please him in some manner. Surely the absence of one who was a constant reminder of his failures would be a relief.

"He was not unhappy at my request. He was, quite….casual, almost disinterested. As though it was a matter of little concern or interest to him. I have been given to understand by the Gardiners that you were quite his favourite daughter. I admit his reception was a puzzle."

"I am afraid my father resents me because he knows I hold him responsible for not only Lydia's disappearance but also for how she had been allowed to grow up. My father is not a bad man but he chose to mock his wife and daughters rather than help them improve, and he allowed the most improper behaviour of his family because to correct it would disturb his peace of mind. And this I could no longer abide when it had cost us so much. I fear I made my disapproval obvious and I can only assume that his pride has been damaged."

Waring could see that despite her best efforts, the reaction of her father was upsetting. "Do not distress yourself, Elizabeth. He has, after all, given his blessing." He hesitated for a moment or two before continuing, "Your sisters appeared very happy for you, but from one or two small comments, I discerned some concern in them about their future or perhaps the future of Longbourn. I admit it was not clear and I did not have an opportunity to pursue the matter with them."

Elizabeth shook her head ruefully, "I cannot be sure of their exact concern, although I have a suspicion…they may fear for their future after I marry." She looked down at their joined hands for several seconds.

"I have a confession, Anthony. For all intents and purposes, and against most dictates of society, I have been the Master of Longbourn for almost two years. My father was ever a dilatory manager, but after Lydia's disappearance, he no longer troubled himself with managing our estate. He stays at home every day, locked in his book room, even taking his meals there. It began with a piece of correspondence which my father had ignored and would, if unanswered, cost Longbourn a large amount. I began meeting with our steward, Mr. Carton, more and more frequently, to handle important correspondence and to consult with him on contracts, rent negotiations, the accounts and ledgers. I was the only one who could assume the responsibilities my father shirked. Jane, although knowledgeable, is too soft-hearted and too kind to make the difficult decisions necessary to run our estate, and neither Kitty nor Mary knows enough to do it yet, although I have been teaching them. Kitty has been taking care of things in my absence and Mary has taken on the management of the household under Mrs. Hill's guidance." Attempting to lighten their discussion, Elizabeth smiled, "I am certain you have wondered why I was so interested in your farming techniques and Oaksley's tenants. Now you know! Despise me if you dare."

Waring murmured something to soothe her and she gave a rueful chuckle, "I have, I fear, displayed the most unladylike behaviour."

Waring began to chuckle, "Do you suppose this diminishes your appeal, Elizabeth? I assure you, it does not. Quite the reverse."

Elizabeth flushed at the warmth in his eyes and tone of voice. She had become so inured to criticism that honest words of approbation sometimes quite overset her. She tried to cover her embarrassment.

"Did you encounter my Aunt and Uncle Philips?"

Waring rolled his eyes, "Aye!"

Elizabeth laughed, "My aunt is quite vulgar; harmless and possessed of a good heart, but vulgar indeed. My uncle, well, he is most sensible in the mornings. He does love his port wine. Fortunately, they travel very little beyond Meryton."

A comfortable silence lasted for a minute or two before Elizabeth's pensive look caused Waring to inquire as to the cause.

"Oh, it is nothing really. But I was wondering about your family. You have never spoken of them. I have almost come to believe you have none."

"No, that is not the case although I concede my family is quite small. Apart from some very distant cousins of whom I have little knowledge, my family is comprised solely of an elder sister and her husband and children, a son of five and twenty and a daughter two years younger and married."

Elizabeth could see he was a little reluctant to continue and wondered at the cause of his disquiet. She squeezed his hand gently saying, "There is no need to talk of this now if you do not wish it." She looked out the nearest window. "It would please me to go for a walk."

This was very agreeable to Waring and within a short time they were suitably garbed, outside and walking at a brisk pace towards the nearest park. Elizabeth felt no need to converse; however, it seemed that the activity had loosened whatever reservations Waring possessed about discussing his family for he began shortly after they started.

"I must apologize, Elizabeth. I did not intend to avoid the subject. My sister, Melanie, is some ten years my senior. We were never particularly close growing up; she married at eighteen and moved away. Her husband is a barrister and they live in Manchester."

Elizabeth walked in silence beside him, waiting for him to continue.

"I have never liked Melanie's husband. He possesses a very elevated sense of his own importance and the insignificance of the rest of the world. I believe I took an immediate dislike to him when we first met though I was but eight, and my opinion did not improve the older and more discerning I became."

"Were your sister and parents deceived in his character, then?" Elizabeth could not credit that Waring would have misjudged his brother-in-law.

"No, unfortunately, my sister was quite determined on the man. Mr. Stokes is the third son of an Earl and grandson of a Marquis. He is excessively proud of his heritage and has no qualms as to the belief in his superiority over the rest of society by virtue of his rank. Regrettably for him his father's estate was completely entailed away to the oldest son and he was in need of a match with a well-dowered woman, which would afford him a lifestyle not made possible by his efforts alone. Mr. Stokes was accepted by my sister who held similar opinions and who was in happy possession of a handsome dowry. I later learned that my parents were not in favour of the match, but Melanie was not to be gainsaid." He frowned, "And I have no reason to believe she is unhappy with him."

"What is he like? As to his character, I know of no particular evil of him. He is not dissolute to my knowledge. I believe him to be honest enough…"

"However…?"

"Yes, well. He settled upon the law for his career as neither the clergy nor the military captured his interest. His station and consequence are well-known, and the success he enjoys as a barrister is due heavily to his connection to his brother, the Earl of _. Many of the judges at the assizes, though below his sphere, are much in his company in society. They, in turn, are much impressed by his condescension in treating them so civilly and, I fear, accord his cases a similar respect. As a result, I suspect his efforts are more successful than warranted and he has come to believe that his successes were due to his significant abilities and that most things can be bent to his wishes. In short, he is arrogant, rude, condescending and, all too frequently, presumptuous."

Elizabeth was silent for a few moments, "Are you often in their company?"

Waring shook his head, "No…no more than necessary. There is a sufficiency of distance and distaste on my part as to make visits infrequent. I do not suppose we visit much above once a year, and that for never more than a fortnight. I admit that the separation is due mostly to my reluctance to be in their company. I believe my last visit was for their daughter's wedding and that was some two or three years ago."

Elizabeth wondered at such an estrangement, "I imagine they have visited Oaksley?"

"I cannot say that there is any particular issue between us; and yes, they have visited Oaksley and I have been made acutely and frequently aware of its inferiority to the estates owned by my brother's family."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, "That is badly done. I have seen many of the great estates, visited them on tours with my aunt and uncle. Oaksley is a fine estate. It may lack the size and grandeur of a Chatsworth, but it is most beautifully situated with a wonderful park. It is not inferior in any of those respects that I consider important and I believe I am not singular in that opinion."

"Let us put my sister and her family aside and enjoy our walk. I have been reviewing the theatre offerings and was wondering if I might entice you to attend …."

Their courtship was not all walks and conversations. They dined together every evening, either at the Gardiners or with the Simmonses. As well, they attended two theatre plays, visited museums and art exhibits. By the end of three weeks, it was clear to Elizabeth that Mr. Waring would offer for her. She knew her answer, was confident in its rationality and of her growing regard for him; however, she could not dispel a certain discomfort about her decision to accept him. There was nothing for it, she required the good counsel of her aunt. Because Mr. Waring was staying with the Gardiners, some machinations were required to ensure privacy for such a discussion and, with her uncle's cooperation, Mr. Waring was persuaded to visit Tattersall's with him to inspect some horses. Elizabeth and her aunt removed themselves to her aunt's private sitting room. Mrs. Gardiner chose to be quite direct.

"I assume that you wish to discuss Mr. Waring. Is there a problem?"

"No! None at all! Indeed, the courtship has gone very well."

"Then what is your concern, Lizzy? You do intend to accept his offer, do you not? Based on his attentions to you, I hazard he will make his addresses very soon."

Elizabeth's voice was firm, "Yes. I have every intention of accepting. He is as fine a man as I have known."

"Then what is the problem? …I am confused, Lizzy. Why do you wish to talk with me?"

Elizabeth suppressed a touch of shame as she stated, as firmly as she could, "I esteem and respect Mr. Waring and have an affection for him, but I cannot say I love him. I thought that sufficient, but I am worried because I think his feelings for me are much stronger than mine for him."

Mrs. Gardiner did not answer immediately and considered her niece for a minute or two, which, to Elizabeth, seemed to last for an unendurable amount of time. Finally she spoke.

"I think I understand. You and Jane once vowed, I believe, to enter marriage only if you held the strongest respect and affection for your husband. Are you feeling guilty, Lizzy?"

Her niece was slow to answer and, when she did, there was a tinge of regret in her voice, "I believe so. I am prepared to accept a prudent marriage, to a most respectable man, but I cannot claim to feel a passionate regard for him. I feel that... oh, I do not know! It seems wrong somehow that my affections do not equal his, and I am concerned about concealing my feelings from him."

Mrs. Gardiner considered her niece for several long moments. "Has Mr. Waring kissed you, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth was shocked at the bluntness of the question and her shock drew a smile from her aunt.

"Has he, Lizzy?"

"No! He has not!"

"Have you felt the wish to kiss him or have him kiss you?"

Elizabeth blushed as deeply as Mrs. Gardiner had ever seen but she seemed incapable of answering.

"I am going to assume from the colour of your face that the answer is yes. You wish him to kiss you." Mrs. Gardiner leaned over and placed a hand atop Elizabeth's and spoke firmly.

"I suspect that you are not unaffected by him. Even if you do not love him now, the possibility that your affections will grow and you will come to love him is very good."

She leaned back and continued, "I notice you used the term 'prudent' to describe your acceptance. It almost sounds as though you consider that to be undesirable."

Elizabeth finally found her voice, "Not undesirable exactly. I suppose it reminds me too much of Charlotte Collins' decision..."

Mrs. Gardiner looked askance, "I hardly consider accepting Mr. Waring to be akin to accepting Mr. Collins." She shook her head, "No. That will not do. I am surprised you would think so poorly of yourself or of Mr. Waring to make such a comparison."

"But…"

"No Lizzy. Charlotte held no affection or respect for the man she accepted. You know she did not. She knew him for what he was – a respectable man perhaps but one with few redeeming characteristics and whose only attraction was that he provided her an independent establishment. You, on the other hand, are considering an offer from a gentleman who is almost the complete opposite of Mr. Collins in every respect. He is his own man, not a toady to his patroness; he is intelligent, not a fool – excuse me for being blunt but you know it to be true; he is considerate, thoughtful…well I could continue but to what end? The only characteristic they share is that they both can provide their wife with a comfortable establishment."

"Am I being mercenary?"

"Mercenary! Are you marrying Mr. Waring for his estate or his income?"

"No…but"

"Would you marry him if he was like Mr. Collins?"

"No!" Elizabeth's response was sharp. "I could not accept any man who treated me with such disrespect and whom I held in dislike." Her thoughts encompassed Mr. Darcy as much as Mr. Collins as she spoke.

Mrs. Gardiner laughed, "Then how can you call yourself mercenary?...Lizzy, Lizzy can you not see the difference? There can be no objection to accepting an offer if you respect and esteem your husband. Love can, and often does, grow over time. Trust in yourself and in Mr. Waring."

Elizabeth's posture straightened, although she gradually assumed a quizzical look, "Does the difference in our ages bother you, aunt?"

"Does it bother you, Lizzy?"

"Not really. I scarcely think about it any longer."

"Then there is nothing to worry about. Mr. Waring appears to be very healthy and younger than his years. He is also quite an attractive man. I believe you will enjoy being married to him." The latter was said with a knowing smile that brought a rosy tinge to Elizabeth's cheeks and quite set her thoughts to wandering.

"Should I ….do you think I should tell him my affections do not equal his?"

Mrs. Gardiner considered her niece's question for some time before finally answering, "I suspect that Mr. Waring is sufficiently satisfied as to the nature of your regard as to not require that you be explicit on the matter. If you esteem him as you have professed, I have little doubt that love will develop. I would not have you lie to him but I think you can provide assurances without doing so. Whether you are fully aware of it or not, no one who observes the two of you would doubt your affection. Love may take some time to grow but I believe the soil to be fertile."

Relieved at her aunt's advice, Elizabeth could only nod and return to considering her future. Although she did not love Anthony Waring, she could and would be a good wife to him and, if she was fortunate, her affections would strengthen and grow.


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 8

 _ **Early July, 1814 - Sloane Street, London**_

The next day unfolded much as Elizabeth expected it would. Mr. Waring arrived at his usual time and they strolled through the local park to a somewhat secluded bench that they had made frequent use of before. It was there that Anthony Waring made his declaration and was happily accepted. Elizabeth was able to assure him that she received his offer with the greatest of pleasure. Although the public nature of their circumstances precluded any overt display of affection, he had no reason to doubt that she would welcome such.

The good news was shared with the Simmonses and the Gardiners and a letter was dispatched to Mr. Bennet informing him of the engagement. Mrs. Bennet, supposing that her daughter would want her mother involved in the planning of the wedding - which she averred would take three months to plan - and in the purchase of wedding clothes, sent a letter that was swiftly set aside. Given the incivility of her treatment at the hands of her mother for the past several years, Elizabeth was not disposed to allow her any part of the ceremony. Mrs. Bennet would have to be content with the proclamation of it to all her nearest neighbours. The abusive letters which followed upon this decision were quickly read and more quickly assigned to a fire.

Neither Elizabeth nor Waring were disposed towards a prolonged engagement and a wedding was to take place in London under the direction of Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Simmons in three weeks time, after the reading of the banns.

Mrs. Gardiner and Jane contrived to help Elizabeth complete the necessary purchase of wedding clothes, a process which took the best part of a week, allowing her to enjoy the other two weeks in the company of her betrothed.

During the week that Elizabeth was occupied by the pursuit of wedding clothes, Waring chose to return to Oaksley to deal with some pressing business and estate matters. He also wanted to ensure that the Mistress' chambers were cleaned and aired for his bride although time did not permit the remodeling required. As he admitted to her before he left, "They are shockingly out-of-date and have not been touched since my mother's death, and possibly even before that. That was twenty years ago. I believe you will wish to remodel them completely."

Elizabeth assured him that, if such were the case, it could be done at their leisure. "For," said she, "those parts of the house that I have seen are perfectly acceptable. I doubt that your mother's rooms can be all that bad."

To Oaksley Mr. Waring went, and such business transacted as was necessary, and the Mistress Chambers cleaned and improved to the extent possible within the time allowed. He was sitting in his study the evening before his return to London, happily contemplating his home and the presence of Elizabeth in it. To have sons and daughters of his own was not a dream he had ever thought to realize, but the prospect of a life together with Elizabeth, and a family surrounding them, was one he now viewed with the greatest of satisfaction. In his weeks in the company of the Gardiners and Simmonses, he had become fond of their children and he had seen enough of Elizabeth's dealings with her young cousins and her niece to know what an excellent mother she would make.

His pleasant musings were most rudely interrupted by a knock on the door. His butler, Mr. Turner, announced, "Mr. and Mrs. Stokes to see you, sir."

Waring was surprised to see his sister and her husband. He had written them of his engagement and invited them and their family to the wedding. As he expected a note in response, not a personal visit, he doubted they travelled to Oaksley to congratulate him on his pending marriage. His conjectures were realized as soon as the immediate pleasantries as to the journey and their health were made.

"You can be at no loss, Waring, to understand the reason of our journey hither. Your own heart, your own conscience, must tell you why we have come," stated Mr. Stokes.

Waring's mien was composed and his response almost playful, "I must assume that you have come in all your haste to wish me joy upon my marriage."

Waring had never been to Spain but he had read accounts of bull-fights and knew that men waved a red cloth in front of a bull to anger it. His words appeared to have had a similar effect on his brother-in-law. Surprisingly, for a man of such heavy construction, his voice was light and inclined to being high-pitched when excited. His wife, who hitherto had been silent, laid a hand on her husband's arm saying calmly, "Mr. Stokes."

The quiet remonstrance appeared to have worked and Stokes had mastered his anger when he next spoke.

"Waring," he replied, "your letter announcing your engagement reached us two days ago. If it had not been written in your own hand, I would have believed it must be a scandalous falsehood. It should be so, but I feared otherwise, and I instantly resolved on setting off for this place, that I might talk some sense into you."

"I wonder you took the trouble of coming so far. What could you propose by it?"

"At once to dissuade you from this farce of an engagement."

Waring laughed, at which Stokes' mien assumed an even angrier cast, "I am afraid, Stokes, that I cannot and will not satisfy you on this matter. I will wed Miss Bennet in two weeks."

"This is not to be borne, Waring. Have you lost the use of your reason? This Miss Bennet's arts and allurements have, in a moment of infatuation, made you forget what you owe to yourself and to all your family. Let me be rightly understood. This match should never take place. No, never. Are you lost to every feeling of propriety?"

Waring smiled, "If she has made me forget myself, I shall be the last person to complain of it." After a brief pause he said, "I fail to comprehend your objections to Miss Bennet. In what manner is propriety being breached?"

Stokes glared at Waring for a moment, and then replied, "Miss Bennet will be an embarrassment to you. She is a young woman of inferior birth, of no importance in the world, and wholly unallied to any family of consequence!"

"Yes, and what is that to me? If there is no other objection to my marrying her, I shall certainly not be dissuaded by such trivial concerns."

"Should you proceed with this foolishness, do not expect her to be noticed by my family or friends. She will be censured, slighted and despised by everyone connected with us. Your alliance will be a disgrace; the Waring name will never even be mentioned by any of us."

"I am surprised that you would present such a specious argument, Stokes. I am rarely in your company and in your family's even less. Why would I repine such a loss? If their opinion was one I valued, I might do so; but such is not the case," replied Waring. "And permit me to assure you that the husband of Miss Elizabeth Bennet will have such extraordinary sources of happiness necessarily attached to his situation that he will, upon the whole, have no cause to repine."

"If you were sensible of your own good, you would not wish her to quit the sphere in which she has been brought up."

"I am a gentleman; she is a gentleman's daughter; we are equal by the only standard that matters to me."

"True. She is a gentleman daughter. But who is her mother? Who are her uncles and aunts?"

"Whatever her connections may be," said Waring, tiring of this tirade, "if I do not object to them, they can be nothing to you."

"You are as obstinate as ever! I expected to find you more reasonable. Is this your gratitude for the attentions of the Stokes family to you? Do you not see how you will injure your family with this marriage? You cannot be unaware that the prospects of my own children may well be harmed by such a connection. Is nothing due to me and my family on that score?"

"With regard to the resentment of your family, or the indignation of the world, if the former were excited by our marriage, it would not give me one moment's concern —the world in general would have too much sense to join in the scorn. And, as for the prospects of your children - your daughter is married, after all, and your son's prospects are hardly my concern."

"Why would a woman twenty years your junior be interested in marrying you? She is a fortune hunter. Surely you can see this?"

"I most certainly do not. In fact I have complete confidence that she is not at all mercenary. However, Stokes," and Waring considered him carefully for several long seconds, "can the same be said of you? I wonder at your purpose here. Perhaps it is not my marriage, but my estate and my fortune which are your concerns. You need not try and dissemble. It is writ on your countenance."

"I do not comprehend your meaning."

"I rather think you do, really. As long as I remain unmarried, my relatives by blood, your children, may expect to inherit my estate upon my death. However, when I marry Miss Bennet, and hopefully have a family, that will change. My children will be my heirs, not yours. That is your interest here today, protecting your children's inheritance, am I not correct? You, after all, have no estate to leave your son. Do you think me blind to such a circumstance?" Waring kept his gaze fixed firmly on Stokes. He could see that his words had struck home.

His sister, for the first time, intruded into the argument. "Can you not see, Brother, that we would wish to ensure that Oaksley does not fall into the hands of one who is undeserving?"

"Undeserving? You have not met Elizabeth and yet you judge her so?"

His sister would not be moved, "Her circumstances all speak against her. I will not address her character for I know it not but she has nothing to recommend her. Nothing! She brings no consequence and no connections to this marriage. There can be little doubt that she is after your fortune."

Waring shook his head at such willful blindness, "Not all women have aspirations such as yours, Sister. But, I have not failed to see that while you have falsely charged Elizabeth with being mercenary, your own motives cannot survive such scrutiny."

"How dare you! Do not speak to my wife with such disrespect." bellowed Stokes.

Before he could respond further, Waring continued, "Permit me to be as clear as possible. You have certainly no right to concern yourself in my affairs. I am my own man and beholden to no one on this matter. I insist that you importune me no farther on the subject."

Mr. Stokes was not done. "You are then resolved to marry her?"

"Most assuredly. I am resolved to act in that manner, which will, in my own opinion, constitute my happiness, without reference to you, or to any person unconnected with me."

"Then we shall sever all ties with you."

"Given your opposition to the match, a breach in the family is inevitable. I certainly do not wish to a further acquaintance with you after your disparagement of Miss Bennet. Should you cut all ties with me, I shall not repine the loss."

Waring suspected that his brother-in-law was not yet prepared to concede the matter and, wearied of the pointless argument, leaned over to pull the bell-cord. As he waited for Turner to arrive, he made his final comment, "Under the circumstances I must insist that you refrain from attending my wedding. Your company will not add to our enjoyment or, from your comments, yours."

He turned to his sister, "As you have severed ties with me, I am sure that you would not wish to remain here overnight, which is just as well as I have no desire, given your insults of Miss Bennet, to extend that courtesy to you. I suggest that you find lodging in Malmesbury. The _ Inn is a reputable establishment."

Stokes was clearly affronted at being so dismissed and Waring felt a twinge, only a very slight one he admitted to himself, as his brother-in-law's countenanced was so suffused with blood as to possible cause an apoplectic fit. As it was, Stokes contented himself with a last word, "You have not heard the last of this!"

Waring contented himself with the curtest of bows and, when Turner entered the room, instructed him as follows, "Mr. and Mrs. Stokes are leaving. Please show them out and return to see me when you have done so."

The Stokeses were not happy to be so unceremoniously dispatched, but were not of a mind to contest the matter further. Mrs. Stokes, who had been mostly silent throughout, took her leave with only a few quiet words of regret at her brother's stance.

A few minutes later, Turner entered the room once more to receive the following direction from Waring, "Until you are told otherwise by me, Mr. and Mrs. Stokes are not to be admitted to Oaksley Manor."

Waring called on Elizabeth immediately upon his return to London. His mood was slightly discomposed and so much at odds with his usual demeanor as to cause Elizabeth to be concerned. The matter was soon disclosed.

"My sister and her husband travelled from Manchester to speak to me about our marriage. Mr. Stokes wished to prevent it. I will not insult you by repeating his words." Elizabeth was not prepared to let the matter rest and finally persuaded him to speak in some detail of the conversation, not omitting his suspicions about his brother-in-law's real motive – the Waring estate and fortune. After he was done, she looked at Waring in amazement.

"I find it astounding that he would travel such a distance for such a purpose as he espoused which he must have known would fail. What can be his object other than to ensure his son is your heir? Because I cannot credit his other reasons." She gave Waring a teasing look, "Does he perhaps have a sister or niece he wishes you to marry instead of me?"

Waring shuddered. "It has been some time since my sister has attempted to introduce me to a member of her husband's family in the hope of merging our fortunes. He may well still have some such designs, however, I have met most of Stokes' female relations and they are, I can assure you, the least interesting women of my acquaintance. You have nothing of which to be concerned."

Elizabeth continued to regard him thoughtfully, "He is a barrister, is he not? I would have thought him more reasonable than this. Is he a sensible man?"

"I have not always found him so. His opinions are not always well-constituted or informed. He admires the distinction of rank and gives more weight to opinions from those whose station he respects." He looked down at his hands which were clasped firmly together.

"Are you upset, Elizabeth?"

Her smile relieved his anxiety on that score and his thoughts veered back to the matter that had concerned him for the last day. He paused thoughtfully for quite a few seconds before saying.

"I suspect…"

Elizabeth waited for a minute to allow him to collect his thoughts, "You suspect?"

Waring was reluctant to raise the issue.

"Ah, as I said, I firmly believe they had expectations about Oaksley. I have never spoken of an heir and it is not a far stretch for them to expect that their son would inherit. I stated as much to them and they did not refute the charge." He looked at Elizabeth, "Your uncle and I are finalizing the settlement papers and I think I must speak of this to him. Under the circumstances, I would have you involved; you must be fully knowledgeable regarding the details so that if something happens to me, you are in a position to protect yourself."

Elizabeth knew that the settlement was being discussed and had hoped to be informed of the particulars after it was approved; to be made aware of them prior to that was a compliment and she said as much to Waring. A meeting to that purpose was agreed upon for the following evening with her uncle and Waring. That session took place as planned and, for the first time, Elizabeth learned that, if Waring was not an excessively wealthy man, his mode of living had allowed him to set aside some forty thousand pounds, a sizable fortune for the day and age. On Elizabeth he settled half that amount, along with other provisions for her dower rights. The balance was to be settled on their daughters or second sons. As he replied when she protested the amount he assigned, "The matter is not one for debate, Elizabeth. Your security is important to me and you must allow me this peace of mind." The meeting with his relatives was mentioned and Waring made a suggestion with which Mr. Gardiner was eventually compelled to agree; for as he noted, if it is specified in the marriage articles, it will be more difficult to challenge than if only in your will."

Elizabeth had every reason to enjoy her engagement period. Mr. Waring, in private, made no effort to hide his affections and those efforts left Elizabeth in no doubt of the ardency of them. She also discovered that he could stir her own desires as well and she did not stint her efforts to assure him that his affections were reciprocated. As the date of the wedding drew nearer, the prospect of further intimacies in the comfort of their marriage bed held little fear for her and was viewed with a great deal of anticipation. Her aunt had taken her aside one evening, a few days prior to the wedding, and, without going into a great deal of detail, gave her niece to understand that such intimacies could provide pleasure and comfort to a married couple. Jane, who Elizabeth thought might wish to speak on the matter, would say little more than it was not distasteful. Since she was blushing greatly when saying this much, Elizabeth forbore to press her further. Thus she was able to bear and ignore, with considerable equanimity, her mother's rather different perspective tendered the night before she was to wed.

Although Waring was able to resolve his business matters expeditiously during his trip to Oaksley, Elizabeth's responsibilities in regards of the Longbourn estate were not so easily discharged. As it was necessary for her to make arrangements to ensure the continued prosperity of Longbourn, Elizabeth travelled there with Waring a week before the wedding to meet with Mr. Carton and her sisters. Mary and Kitty were perforce required to become more actively engaged and, if unable to replace their elder sister in all particulars, they were agreeable to acting as her agents in support of Mr. Carton. With that gentleman, a regular exchange of correspondence was arranged. Elizabeth, with her future husband's concurrence, agreed to visit at least twice yearly to oversee the situation. Mr. Bennet was apprised of all the arrangements and evinced as much interest as in the past, which is to say that as long as his meals, port and books were in good order, he was content.

If there was any cloud overhanging Elizabeth's happiness, it was that her elder sister retained reservations about her marriage. Not only did she remain concerned about the difference in ages between Elizabeth and her betrothed, she also worried that Elizabeth's acceptance had been based more on prudence – a need for a home – than on affection. Nothing that Elizabeth said convinced her otherwise and she was not unhappy when her sister finally desisted in such inquiries. Jane ultimately resolved to conceal her uncertainties and rejoice in her sister's contentment with her situation. With Mr. Waring himself, she was quite pleased and only regretted that her beloved sister would be settled so far from her as to make frequent visits impossible.

The night before the wedding found Elizabeth with little to do and much to think on. Tomorrow she would wear the name of Elizabeth Bennet for the last time. The prospect did not dismay her; she looked forward to her new life. They were to travel almost immediately after the wedding to Wiltshire and her new home where they would spend the first week or so of their marriage. They had discussed a wedding trip shortly after becoming engaged and, after much debate, plans were laid to visit Scotland which Waring had visited several times in the past.

"Anthony, I am not unaware of the real purpose for traveling to Scotland." Elizabeth said teasingly.

"I do not comprehend your meaning, Elizabeth," said Mr. Waring, wondering what new tease his betrothed was to inflict on him.

"The fishing, of course. My uncle assures me that Scotland has the finest salmon fishing in the country. Shall I have to check to ensure that your tackle – that is the proper term, is it not – is not travelling with us?"

Mr. Waring's face fell and Elizabeth burst into laughter, "I would not suspend any such pleasure of yours, Anthony. You may bring such tackle as you deem necessary; however, there is a stipulation."

He did not try to smother his grin, "And that is?"

"You must bring a second set with us."

Mr. Waring was now completely puzzled, "For what purpose? I am sure that should we meet anyone there, he will have his own tackle."

Elizabeth smirked, "For me, of course. You must teach me how to fish. I shall not bear to be apart from my husband and, if I am to be by your side, I may as well learn to fish as not."

To call him surprised was to understate the case. No woman of his acquaintance had ever expressed a desire to fish and, for several moments, he was speechless. Finally he blurted, "You wish to fish? To learn to fish?"

At Elizabeth's nod, he gathered his composure. Although he was not entirely sure that it was a good idea, he consented to the proposal. After all, as he thought more on the matter, if the fish were not co-operating, he might well pass the time more enjoyably with his wife. That he could contemplate pleasuring his wife under such circumstances was so new a prospect as to leave him quite aroused. Not much more than two months ago, he had little thought to marry and now that prospect was upon him and was being considered with great anticipation. If teaching his new wife to fish would increase her happiness, he was sure that his own would be enhanced as well.

 _ **July, 1814 - Derwydd Hall near Oswestry, Shropshire**_

The carriage had travelled but a mile or so beyond Oswestry when it turned off the main road past a gatehouse that marked the entrance to Derwydd Hall, home of the Goodwells. The road wound its way through meadows interspersed with wooded areas for about a half mile before entering a clearing which displayed a moderate sized house built in the Tudor style. As they drove through a large archway into an inner courtyard, Darcy estimated the house to contain about five and twenty rooms based on a count of the windows. It was happily situated amongst a grove of trees with gardens laid out behind.

The Goodwells came down the entrance steps to welcome them as the carriage rolled to a stop, and several footmen were quickly busy unloading trunks from the carriage. The greetings were quickly effected and the Darcys ushered inside. Since it was but an hour or so until dinner and they had been travelling since an early hour, a bath and a change of clothes were their greatest needs and were easily met. Later, suitably refreshed, they ventured downstairs to join their hosts and meet the other guests. In company with the Goodwells were Mr. Goodwell's mother, a matronly woman of about sixty years and seemingly possessed comfortable manners, Mrs. Goodwell's brother - Mr. George Linton, a gentleman several years older than Darcy, and his wife, Alicia, who was several years junior to her husband. Also present were Mr. Goodwell's younger sister, Mrs. Sarah Howell, and her husband, Mr. Thomas Howell who was of an age with Darcy.

"I thought, Darcy, we might give you and your sister, a tour of the house after we dine, if that is agreeable to you?" offered Mr. Goodwell.

Darcy readily assented and they removed as a group to the family dining room. Conversation was comfortable amongst the Goodwell family and it was not long before Darcy and his sister were participating with some ease. There was effortlessness, intelligence and a lack of pretension to the conversation that bespoke well not only of the understanding of the company but also of its manners. Darcy could remember few occasions where he immediately felt so comfortable and he could see his sister's normal reserve and shyness dissipate as the meal progressed.

Afterwards, a tour of the house was guided by the Goodwells who made little effort to mask their love for their home.

"If it were not for the theatre, opera and similar entertainments in London, we would never leave, I assure you, Darcy. Six weeks is all that I can endure away from my home, and our children would never wish to leave."

"It is truly delightful, Henry. It has features that I have never seen elsewhere."

"Well, it is an old house – built in Queen Elizabeth's reign, I believe."

"How long has your family owned it?"

"My great-grandfather bought it about a hundred years ago. He and my grandfather did some renovation work and modernized several rooms but it remains very much as it was when we bought it – the essential features, at least."

"The Great Hall is truly amazing. The wall panels with those carved faces…I have never seen their like elsewhere."

"We hold a Twelfth Night Ball there every year and a Harvest Ball as well. It is a family tradition and one our neighbours have come to count on. Perhaps you and your sister could join us this year, although I know you wish to spend Christmas at Pemberley."

"Yes, I do. We do. There are obligations to our tenants and neighbours that would make it difficult for us to be absent during the Christmas season. But I thank you for the offer."

Two days later saw them attending services in the Oswestry Parish Church. The service was not unusual in any respect and the ritual was, as ever, comforting. The rector, Mr. Farrell, a gentleman of sixty years or more, spoke well and simply, with an almost Socratic discourse into the meaning of the day's scripture, and Darcy came away wishing for the opportunity to talk further with him on that and other subjects. This wish, he was soon to learn, could be gratified as the rector and his family were to be the guests of the Goodwells for dinner that very evening, as appeared to be the normal custom,.

At five, a carriage was dispatched to bring the Farrells thither and a half hour later the rector, his wife and a young woman who turned out to be his daughter joined them. Mrs. Farrell was a short, plump pigeon of a woman with a cheerful countenance and engaging manners. As Darcy was to learn, gossip formed the majority of her conversation although he never detected the smallest portion of unkindness in it and, indeed, it seemed that her greatest pleasure came from regaling those happy events – marriages, births and courtships forming the greatest part – that were so much an ingredient of any small community. Her daughter, Judith, a young woman of some five and twenty years appeared to be well known to the Goodwells and conversed easily with them in a rather lively manner. She was of a slight build with strong features and became quite handsome when she smiled. She would never be considered beautiful by most of society but would, Darcy thought, be as attractive at sixty as she was at five and twenty.

Before he could consider her further, the opportunity to converse with her father presented itself and soon he found himself quite enjoyably engaged in a discussion of the history of Oswestry and its connections to Wales. Georgiana and the Lintons found themselves equally as interested and the call to the dinner table did little to interrupt the flow of conversation and they, happily seating themselves at the table, were able to persuade the good rector to continue the discussion to the point that he offered to be their guide for several excursions around the area in the coming weeks. Miss Farrell's company was solicited by Georgiana and her agreement readily given.

The pleasant conversation continued after the meal and, when the gentlemen had rejoined the ladies in the small parlour, Georgiana and Miss Farrell consented to provide musical entertainment. Darcy found Miss Farrell's performance, although clearly not equal to Georgiana's in technique, to be quite as enjoyable as she was gifted with an admirable feel for the music and a pleasant singing voice. He had no opportunity to speak with her as his attention was engaged by Mr. Farrell and his friend, Goodwell, although, on more than one occasion, his gaze drifted to where she and his sister were conversing with some spirit with Mrs. Howell. It seemed that the evening was too short as the Farrells were reluctant to stay much past ten in the evening. The carriage was called and plans confirmed for several days hence to make a day trip to visit several places that Mr. Farrell thought might interest the Goodwell's guests.

The next day, the Darcys and the Lintons travelled to Oswestry to walk through the town and visit some of the local shops. Mrs. Howell declined to join them as her condition, a babe to be expected in January, was such as to make her stomach rebellious in the morning and her husband could not be persuaded to part from her. The day was quite warm but by the time they arrived in Oswestry, a walk through the town allowed them to enjoy a light cooling breeze that had sprung up. As they passed the Parish church, Miss Farrell was seen to be walking ahead of them and, upon being hailed, quite willingly joined their group.

"I am, you see, just out for a ramble. I have to visit a family and then planned to walk for a while and enjoy the day."

"Do you go for a walk frequently, Miss Farrell?" asked Georgiana.

"Whenever the weather and my mother will allow it." laughed Miss Farrell. "My mother can sometimes find altogether too many tasks for me to do for my liking."

"Tasks?"

"Oh indeed! Some of them related to the church - preparations and such - and there is a great deal of parish business and visits to make. My father does not have a curate, you see, and his health is such that he cannot visit as much as he wishes. Since I like to be active, those active tasks have fallen to my lot. Fortunately, it is not a hardship."

Georgiana asked the question which sprung to Darcy's mind, "Your father is not well, Miss Farrell?"

When no response was immediately forthcoming, Georgiana was, Darcy could see, about to make her excuses for answering; however, Miss Farrell spoke before she could so.

"It is not a significant problem, but he tires easily. Now, down this lane we can see the local graveyard. Some of the markers date from the Wars of the Roses although much of the words have been worn down by wind and rain."

The change of topic was accepted by all and Darcy asked, "Have you and your family always lived here in Oswestry, Miss Farrell?"

His question appeared to catch her by surprise, perhaps because he had not previously spoken to her and he had not appeared to have paid her much attention; he had, after all, been in her company for a whole evening and addressed not one word to her. Nevertheless, it did allow for the further diversion of interest from the topic of her father's health which she was not comfortable discussing and was not unwelcome. Collecting her thoughts, she responded, "My father accepted the living here about twenty years ago, Mr. Darcy. We moved here from York."

Questions from the other members about the history of Oswestry brought a laughing disclaimer from Miss Farrell, "You must save these questions for my father. He has made quite a study of the area and is much more knowledgeable than I."

Miss Farrell was required to absent herself for a quarter hour to complete the purpose of her trip – a visit to a parishioner – and, after rejoining them, directed them to a stroll past the more prominent shops in the town, finally leaving as they arrived where their horses had been stabled.

On more than one occasion over the days that followed, Darcy and Georgiana, sometimes accompanied by others, happened upon Miss Farrell as she walked the paths and trails surrounding Oswestry. When such meetings occurred it was their wont to dismount and walk with her; Georgiana took upon herself most of the burden of conversation, Darcy usually content to walk beside his sister and listen to their conversation. If one were to have asked Darcy where his thoughts tended, he would have been hard-pressed to provide a coherent answer. More than once he was reminded of those few walks he had enjoyed with Elizabeth Bennet when she had visited Hunsford. Miss Farrell, at first inclined to disregard his habitual silence, was, on the second time he and Georgiana joined her, less prepared to suffer his quietude and began to question him directly, her manner light and teasing.

"Miss Darcy, we have been discussing novels for some time now and your brother has yet to venture an opinion. I begin to think he disdains such pleasures. Pray tell me, does he only read dusty tomes of philosophy? Or perhaps agricultural treatises?"

"I fear my brother must answer for himself, Miss Farrell. I do believe he has read a novel once in a while."

Darcy smiled, "I, once upon a time, read all my sister's novels to ensure she did not read anything improper. I now leave that chore to her companion. I trust that my sister does not read anything too scandalous."

"Do you have an opinion on a recent work by the author we were just discussing?"

"I admit to not having read it, Miss Farrell. Despise me, if you dare."

"Indeed, sir, I would hardly dare, though you might enjoy the tale. I warn you that it is a romantic story."

"Would Mrs. Burney approve of it?"

"I think not, Mr. Darcy. Not a castle to be found, I fear."

"Mayhap, I may try it then."

"I will loan you my copy, brother. I have quite finished it."

Shortly thereafter they left Miss Farrell at the parsonage and continued on to Derwydd Hall. Later that evening everyone relaxed in the family parlour: Goodwell and Linton were engaged in a chess match; Darcy had begun to read the novel lent by his sister and the others content to converse amiably. Darcy's attention was caught by Georgiana's mention of Miss Farrell.

"I must admit it has been a pleasure to have made Miss Farrell's acquaintance. My brother and I have encountered her several times while riding."

"She is a sweet girl." Offered the senior Mrs. Goodwell. "It is unfortunate that her circumstances are not better."

"Not better? How so?" questioned Georgiana.

Darcy was not inclined to listen to gossip in general but this subject captured his interest.

Mrs. Goodwell was about to explain further when her daughter interrupted, "I do not believe we should gossip, mother."

"Nonsense, Alice. I say nothing that is not common knowledge." Mrs. Goodwell's tone was brisk as she spoke once more, "She is a dear girl. Well read, smart and most good-hearted. Unfortunately, her father's health is precarious – although that is not well-known – and, when he dies - unless he has made some provision - she and her mother will probably have to depend upon either the charity of her uncle, her mother's brother who lives and works in London, in trade I believe or that of her father's brother, the Baron. They are, however, in some straightened circumstances themselves, I understand.."

"I can hardly believe she remains unmarried. She is quite attractive. Surely she must have drawn some attentions?" Georgiana's voice was thoughtful.

Mrs. Linton decided to have her share of the conversation, "I believe that several young men and even a widower indicated some interest but she gave them no encouragement at all. And…" she spoke with added emphasis, "her circumstances are not all that poor. She is the granddaughter of Baron _, after all!"

Mrs. Goodwell was indignant, "Of course she did not accept such suitors. They were a poor lot indeed. Tenant farmers all of them, except for the widower who was fat and forty if he was a day. And he only wanted a mother for his five children. All of them thought to acquire a gentleman's daughter for a wife. It would have been very much a step down for her." She nodded at her daughter. "Indeed, she is not without some connections; she is the granddaughter of a Baron but the family is not wealthy and there may be little help from that quarter. Mr. Farrell is the fourth son, I believe, and must depend upon his own efforts."

Georgiana was not afraid to express an opinion with which she was not in complete agreement. "Nonetheless, marriage would have assured her of independence and a home. Prudence suggests she marry although I concede that such prospects are not attractive." She paused, "Judith has not spoken of her grandparents. Do they not see them often?"

"They did visit them for a fortnight a few years ago but, as the family estate is in Sussex, the cost of travelling is beyond what they can afford." After a brief pause, Mrs. Goodwell returned to her principal concern.

"Such a marriage as Miss Farrell has been offered would quite soon, I am sure, be most unhappy. She could never respect such a husband as has approached her. Prudence can carry too high a cost, my dear." Mrs. Goodwell was looking at Georgiana as she spoke and the latter nodded slowly in agreement. The conversation moved on to other topics and Darcy was left to consider that which he had overheard; eventually he returned his attention to the novel he was reading, putting aside all thoughts of Miss Farrell and her circumstances.

Two days later the inhabitants of Derwydd Hall were invited to dine with a local family, the Carringtons, with whom the Goodwells had long been acquainted. It turned out to be a large gathering with some eight and twenty people invited. Mr. Carrington was a jovial gentleman some fifteen years older than Darcy and well pleased to entertain and his pleasure grew in proportion to the numbers that were present. The welcome was warm and all the necessary introductions performed with dispatch. Darcy found that his discomfort in being surrounded by those with whom he was unacquainted was, as ever, present, and it was with no little relief that he saw Mr. Farrell enter the room, accompanied by his wife and daughter. With an expectation of interesting conversation, he moved towards him; however, before he had crossed half the distance, he was approached by another guest, Sir Charles Harland, a Baronet who, having relatives in Derbyshire and having heard of the Darcy family, was eager to pursue an acquaintance.

Sir Charles quickly established himself as a man possessed of definite opinions with a ready willingness to share them all. Ten minutes of conversation was sufficient to reveal to Darcy that Sir Charles' opinions were not those he would espouse or, in many cases, respect. They also had several acquaintances in common, although Darcy could not admit to knowing any of them particularly well. This was not an obstacle to Sir Charles discussing their affairs in more detail than Darcy was comfortable with or prepared to contribute his share. His attention was not completely given over to Sir Charles, who needed little but a willing and quiet listener to be content, and that which remained was directed to the Farrells. He noticed where Mr. Farrell had seated himself and that his daughter had joined Georgiana in conversation. After a few minutes he realized that his sister and Miss Farrell had moved behind him and out of his sight. He resisted the compulsion to see where Miss Farrell had seated herself. Doing so would be discourteous to Sir Charles and he firmly returned his attention to that gentleman in time to hear him say, "You know George Atkinson, of course?"

Darcy thought for a moment, "Yes, although not well. I have not spoken to him for several years."

"Just as well, perhaps. No one else is!"

"I fear I do not take your meaning, sir."

"His marriage, of course! You must have heard that he made a most inappropriate marriage."

"I have heard nothing at all. Inappropriate? In what way?"

"His family is quite ashamed of him. I believe several have gone so far as to cut all ties with him. He is fortunate to have an independent competence, otherwise, when his father disinherited him, he and his wife would have been thrown into the hedgerows altogether."

Darcy thought to remember all that he had heard of the Atkinson family.

"I do not know the family at all well. My acquaintance with Atkinson was not great. We met at Cambridge. I seem to remember him speaking of his father, in particular, as being rather…conservative."

"Conservative? Perhaps, although I would rather have said that he has a very proper appreciation of what one owes to one's family."

"There were then some serious objections to the lady?"

"To be sure."

Sir Charles seemed, for one who had to that point been quite querulous, oddly reluctant to be more specific. For reasons that he did not understand, Darcy was curious to find out more.

"Was she," he asked, somewhat fancifully, "an actress or an opera singer?"

Sir Charles chuckled, "No! No! She was quite respectable in that regard, although perhaps one could better understand Atkinson's behaviour if she were an actress or such."

Darcy asked mildly, "What was the objection then to the match?"

"She was the daughter of a barrister who was himself the son of a tradesman. She had no connections of note, no dowry worthy to speak of and, while her family was respectable enough, her relations were less so. In trade, you know!"

"Were there other objections to the young lady?"

"Not that I have heard although one never knows in these situations. Those were sufficient surely. I am certain his family believe her to be a fortune hunter. Hardly could be otherwise given the circumstances. And, even were she not, which I think doubtful, she and her family are of no consequence and it is a degradation of the Atkinson name to be attached to them. A degradation, I tell you. I am ashamed of that young man and sorry for his family."

"Ah, I see." Darcy was thoughtful as his thoughts returned to the Bennet family and those objections he had raised to prevent his friend's attentions to Jane Bennet and which he had so poorly and wrongly articulated in his proposal to her sister. So wrapped in thought was he that much of Sir Charles' further observations went unheard. He was finally recalled by the questioning tone in his voice.

"…..it would be intolerable, would it not? A man in your position would not act so."

Darcy was not altogether certain what he was being asked to confirm and his discomfort with his past actions was such as to make him wish for solitude to collect himself as best he could. With a hasty acknowledgement, he moved away from a rather surprised Sir Charles and moved towards the window which looked out on the garden in back. As he moved in that direction, he noticed that his sister, Miss Farrell and several other young ladies were standing not too distant from where he and Harland had been speaking and wondered if their conversation had been overheard. Certainly Harland had made no effort to moderate his voice. He thought to ask his sister, when an opportunity presented itself, if such had been the case although he could not see that the matter was of such significance as to warrant concern.

Dinner was satisfying. Places were by choice and he seated himself across from his sister and between Mr. and Mrs. Farrell. Their daughter sat beside his sister and altogether he thought that conversation would be comfortable; and so it proved to be, for the most part. Mr. Farrell was, as always, able to talk intelligently on a variety of subjects and, on those occasions that he had to attend the lady who sat on his other side; Mrs. Farrell was quite willing to fill any silence. He quickly found that her daughter was a topic on which she was not reluctant to express an opinion.

"I do not altogether understand the girl, Mr. Darcy. She is so much like my father. He could never bear to be idle or inside but must always be out walking. I despair sometimes of her ever finding a husband."

Darcy felt all the difficulty of responding to such a comment and observed, "My sister and I have met her out walking quite often. She appears to derive considerable enjoyment from the activity. I believe she also visits your husband's parishioners regularly while doing so. "

Mrs. Farrell nodded eagerly but her attention was then captured by her other table partner asking her a question and Darcy turned his attention to the conversation taking place between his sister and Miss Farrell. Their voices were too low for him to hear what they were saying and thus, suddenly bereft of conversation, he relaxed, leaned back in his chair and considered Miss Farrell more closely. Throughout the meal he had spoken to her once or twice and, on each occasion, her responses had been polite and brief. With others, she appeared willing to engage in extended discussions but not with him. This was somewhat different from their past acquaintance when, though their exchanges had been few, she had engaged him as willingly as she had his sister and he could not account for the change in her behaviour.

He rather thought he would attempt to engage her in a discussion after dinner but such plans as he had hoped to implement proved fruitless. When the gentlemen returned to the music room to join the ladies, Miss Farrell, Georgiana and a few other ladies were persuaded to provide musical entertainment. Afterwards his attempts to join her company were unsuccessful; she always seemed to be called to speak to someone in another area of the room when he arrived. He was puzzled by such an unfortunate turn of events. It almost seemed as though she was avoiding him, though why she should do so he could not fathom.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

 _ **Early August, 1814 – Gracechurch Street, London**_

The wedding took place according to the usual formalities and, at its conclusion, Elizabeth Bennet surrendered the name of Bennet, to her immense satisfaction, and took that of Elizabeth Waring. As she was to confess to her sister afterwards, it was as though she shed, for once and for all, the tarnish that her youngest sister had attached to her. The shame affixed to the name of Bennet was a burden she no longer had to bear.

As she contemplated her future, she remembered her vows. They would, she knew, be easy to honour. She had come to know her husband well enough to realize that to love, honour and obey would entail few problems even if, she chortled to herself, the obey part might be stretched as they became more comfortable with one another. She believed that he would never ask her to do something to which she had serious objections. She trusted in his love and his honour.

By ten that morning, they had departed from the wedding breakfast to the dismay of Mrs. Bennet who could not, despite repeated explanations, understand their need to leave so precipitously. Fortunately, the number of guests was not large, consisting mainly of the Bennets, Simmonses and Philipses and a few friends of the Gardiners and Simmonses who had been invited. Mr. Waring's family – comprised of an elder sister and her husband, had not attended nor had they been expected. However, to Waring's surprise, his niece and her husband had attended, contrary to the wishes of her parents, met his future wife, and approved of her most heartily. Plans for future visits were laid with an invitation to them to visit Oaksley Manor at Christmas.

Despite Mrs. Bennet's urging, no one from Meryton had been invited and their absence was regretted only by that lady. Mr. Bennet was much as he had become over the last few years. The barrier, arising out of Lydia's disappearance, and out of his own and his favourite daughter's recognition of his failure as a father, had created an obstacle that neither had been able to surmount. His feelings of resentment, guilt and hurt pride which had come to colour their once comfortable relationship could not be dissipated so easily. Elizabeth's own withdrawal and increased absences from Longbourn only solidified their estrangement. Inasmuch as Longbourn seemingly could be managed quite competently without his involvement, he had no excuse, no reason not to retreat into seclusion. What purpose did he serve after all? With these somber thoughts he walked his daughter down the church isle, surrendered her hand to the man she would wed knowing that she was doing so for many reasons not least of which was the desire to escape him and her situation at Longbourn.

They had settled comfortably into their carriage and, for the first time in her life, Elizabeth was alone with a man who was neither her father nor her uncle. She was not sure how she felt. Anxious, for a certainty. Her husband seemed to sense her qualms and allowed her to adjust at her own pace, only claiming her hand as his.

It was as unsettling as anything she had previously experienced when he removed her gloves, and his own, and nestled her smaller hand in his, gently stroking the back of her hand. If he thought that he was calming her, Elizabeth could have informed him otherwise. The urge to be kissed was growing apace and yet the courage to admit of that desire escaped her at the moment. The brief brush of his lips at the conclusion of their wedding ceremony had barely registered. While she was mulling over these thoughts, he spoke.

"We have not discussed our trip at all. It is, as I believe you know but perhaps have not considered, almost one hundred and twenty miles to Oaksley – too far to travel in one day unless we wish to arrive very late at night and with exhausted horses. I most definitely do not wish to spend our wedding night travelling. I have reserved us rooms at the _ Inn in Newbury which is about halfway to Oaksley. I apologize for not consulting with you but I have made the trip often enough to know that this is the best choice."

"I have no objections, husband. None! I also would not wish to travel at night."

"The inn is extremely comfortable and I have obtained the best rooms for our use."

Elizabeth nodded her assent and nothing more was said on that subject. There is little to be gained by describing their travel to Newbury. The carriage was well sprung and pulled by four well-matched horses. Their security was ensured by the presence for two footmen in addition to the driver – all of whom were well-armed. Inside the carriage the newlywed couple had no shortage of conversation and, to her complete satisfaction, Elizabeth had her wish for her husband to kiss her granted more than a few times before they arrived in Newbury. In fact, she was appreciative of those few minutes they travelled through Newbury to rearrange her hair, bonnet and dress, so as to be able to greet their host at the inn with composure.

Through sleep-laden eyes he watched her as she left the bed and felt her way to the wash stand. The splash of water in the bowl alerted him to her activities and he gazed with a tinge of regret as she soaked a cloth and then wash her thighs and between them. He had expected there to be some blood but, in his own thoughtlessness, had not considered that she would want, would need, to be cleansed. After drying herself, she searched the floor until she found her nightgown which he had thrown aside during the night. She would need it as the fire was naught but embers and the room grown cool. Climbing back into the bed, she inched her way closer to his warm body, turning on her side with her back to his chest; feigning sleep, he draped an arm over her and gently pulled her closer. A sigh was her only response and they lay so for some minutes until he felt her leg spasm and then it seemed as though her whole body relaxed. Within minutes her breathing had taken on a regular soft chuffing sound and he was sure that she had fallen asleep. When he whispered her name, there was no response and he allowed himself to close his eyes. He was almost painfully aroused but it would not do to importune her again so soon. He wished to sleep, but could not, and his mind was caught by the memories he and she had created just scant hours before.

He had never bedded a virgin before that night and never expected to do so again. In this, their experience was equal. She was a maid, a virgin, and inexperienced in the pleasures of the marriage bed. He had resolved to be patient and even, should it prove necessary, to defer his own pleasure to ensure hers. In this he failed dismally. He had been told, with what veracity he could not know, that he was somewhat larger than most men and she had been so small . . . he feared her pain would be severe. He could only hope that she would not fear the intimacies of their marriage bed in the future.

Her soft "enter" when he knocked on her door spoke of her uncertainty. She was waiting for him, sitting on the edge of our bed, clothed in the most disturbing of nightgowns and he thought her calm until he saw how tight the clasp of her hands. He had been no less embarrassed and almost as nervous as she when he knocked on the door. Strangely, her very nervousness calmed him. They shared a glass of wine, sitting together on her bed. He drank very little, it had been offered for her, to ease and calm her. Her hair was braided into a sleeping braid but she undid it at his request and it fell to her waist and over her shoulders. "You shall always wear it thus when I come to your bed." He murmured, stroking it, letting it run through his fingers. She was enchanting, intoxicating; he ached for her at that moment - as much as he ached now. His thoughts wandered over all they shared that night and he feared to allow himself to dwell on those intimacies lest it overpower his restraint again. He could remember caressing her breasts with hands and lips; she had denied him nothing - there was not a part of her body he did not touch and taste.

His hand slid down her body and underneath the loose nightgown until he touched her soft core once more. His fingers stroked her several times and he desisted only when her hips began to move under his ministrations. He brought his hand back to his lips, smelled and tasted her essence.

Her pleasure, her passions had quite undone him and stirred him to greater efforts; and, while he desperately wished to claim her, to make her his wife in truth, he was able to forbear, but it took the utmost resolve. It was only when she demanded it of him that he weakened and found he could not deny what they both wanted. He was as slow and gentle as possible but could not but cause her pain when he finally entered her body. He kissed her tears, but she would have it no other way, would not allow him to do other than join with her. He knew she took little pleasure from their joining at first and he, after denying himself so long, was not able to withstand the delight of entering and possessing her so fully. He sensed she was but starting to take some pleasure when his own overcame his ability to control. He was totally undone. He murmured, "You gave me to believe that you were well satisfied. I hope so, my love; you will share my bed for the remainder of my days and, if I have failed to give you a full measure of pleasure tonight, I will not lack for opportunity or desire to remedy that deficiency."

He did not remain awake long afterwards. She remained asleep, her head coming to rest on his chest, her body pressed against him.

He must have dozed for some time as she had turned on her back when next he gazed at her. Her restless movements woke him. His lay his hand on her belly and could feel her breathing and the warmth of her body through her nightgown. He had no notion of the time but the room was very cool now and only the faintest embers were to be seen in the fireplace. He forced himself out of bed, the floor cold under his feet, and he moved to the fireplace with alacrity. A few thin pieces of wood, and blowing on the embers rekindled the flame and, as it spread, he placed several dry split logs on the nascent flame. By the time he had refreshed himself, wiped the traces of blood from his own body and crawled back into bed, the fire had caught and was beginning to cast off some heat.

Curled up beside Elizabeth, he collected her body to his own and began to stroke her lightly through her nightgown, his touches so soft as to ensure that she slept on. His hand teased the hardening peak on her breast, her breathing became a little shallower; he slowed his caress until she calmed once more and his thoughts wandered again.

He woke before her in the morning and felt such a desire as he had never experienced before. She did not expect his attentions, was almost embarrassed by them, the daylight and the faint sounds of the Inn waking, appeared to discomfit her but he persisted and would not be denied; he was sure that she would respond. The woman who lay in his arms last night could do no other. His attentions were no less than the night before and it was some time before he moved to join with her, to encase himself in her warmth and feel her moving with him. If there was some small pain, it did not seem to last and her pleasure, her petite mort, was beautiful to behold, calling forth his own.

As he they lay together afterwards, he murmured in her ear, "I have never known such joy with a woman and knew not that it was even possible. I am the most fortunate of men."

The happy couple departed the _ Inn somewhat late that morning and those who saw them as they made their way to the carriage, could have little doubt of their happiness as their exuberance could not be masked. The second day of travel went much as the first except now there was an additional degree of freedom and intimacy between them. Their exertions of the night before had left them both more than a little in want of sleep and it was no surprise to Waring when Elizabeth, after a half hour, drifted quietly off to sleep.

For his part thoughts of the past and future would intrude. He would not pretend to inexperience; although no Lothario, he had had some interludes with women. His honour would not allow him to seduce a maiden, nor would he consort with married women. His few "adventures," for want of a better term, had involved widows with a reasonable independence and no desire for the married state. His heart had not been touched since he was a young man of four and twenty and even then, the loss of the lady's interest – a young lordling had come courting and she was smitten and engaged to marry within a month – had not materially damaged his heart. He had never loved until he met a young woman laughing at her uncle beside the Ingleburn. That he had won her hand in marriage and her body for his bed was such as to make him sometimes fear it had been a dream. And yet. Here she was, his wife, travelling beside him with their wedding night behind them and every expectation of a happy future. With such musings he dozed and it was with no little surpise that he found that he had also fallen asleep only to be wakened when the carriage made its first stop to change horses.

Their trip passed as such journeys do with conversation, some intimacies and the occasional nap. As they finally drew up in front of Oaksley Manor, Elizabeth turned to her husband and made a simple vow, "You will have no regrets in marrying me, husband."

 _ **August, 1814 - Derwydd Hall, Shropshire**_

Darcy had been at Derwydd Hall about a month when one morning, at the breakfast table, Mr. Goodwell waved a sheet of paper at his wife and exclaimed, "Ah, this is just the thing! A ball!"

His wife glanced at him, "A ball, Henry? When? Where? Who is holding it?"

"Patience, my love. Patience!" he read the note once more. "We are invited to a private ball, to be held in the Assembly Rooms in Oswestry, Friday next."

"Who is hosting it?"

"The Mandells. You recall them, I am sure. It seems their son has just become engaged and they wish to celebrate the event."

"Less than a fortnight from now!" Mrs. Goodwell looked at Darcy. "Were not you and your sister to depart that day?"

Darcy looked over at Georgiana before responding, "For my part, I see no reason that we could not put off our departure for a few days, if you are able to host us. Georgiana?"

Georgiana nodded, "I am quite at liberty although…." She paused for several moments, "…although I am not sure I brought anything suitable for such an occasion."

Mrs. Goodwell was quick to assure her that Oswestry had one or two capable seamstresses; however, before she could comment further, Darcy offered to send a carriage with her maid to Pemberley to retrieve any gowns Georgiana might desire and this, meeting with her approval, was done and so it was that they were to stay until the Monday following the ball.

The days leading up to the ball proceeded much as they had been doing. The gentlemen rode, shot, fished and undertook other such activities as were customary for their sex, while the women were as happily engaged in less strenuous activities. A number of outings were arranged, some under the guidance of Mr. Farrell, which could be enjoyed by them all. Fortunately, the weather proved cooperative and days replete with sun and warmth were much in evidence.

Several times Darcy, whilst out riding, either alone or with Georgiana, encountered Miss Farrell walking and, if Darcy had thought more on the matter, it might have occurred to him that the time and direction of his activities had been orchestrated, either by his own or his sister's inclinations, so as to make such encounters possible. Nevertheless, such thoughts did not arise and he – and Georgiana – invariably joined Miss Farrell as she rambled. When Darcy walked with her alone, he made a determined effort to engage her in conversation. This proved, more than once, to require exertion on his part, for he found the lady to be coolly polite and somewhat reluctant to talk with him as freely as she did with his sister. Nevertheless, he persisted and usually was able to engage her interest and conversation when talking of plays and books in particular. On one such encounter, Miss Farrell seemed less reticent and began to ask him about his estate, a subject on which he was never reluctant to expound. Her questions showed both an interest in and some knowledge of the workings of an estate, which could only encourage him to speak more freely on the subject. Knowing her interests, he spoke more of the grounds, gardens and walking trails and also of the tenants and their families. When they parted, he had rarely felt so pleased with a young woman's company.

The day of the ball was soon upon them. They entered the Assembly Room to be greeted by their hosts and the engaged couple. Darcy and Georgiana moved smoothly through the introductions, extended their congratulations to the obviously happy couple and strolled deeper into the room. Darcy had already secured the first four sets with the ladies of his party and was quite at leisure since dancing was not to start for a full half hour. Georgiana had spotted Miss Farrell and left his side to speak with her. Two or three gentlemen that he had met at the Carrington's dinner beckoned him over and he, more quickly than he had expected, found himself conversing about their estate concerns which, in truth, were not much different than those he faced regularly.

When the musicians began to warm up their instruments, he sought out Georgiana in order to lead her onto the floor. He found her talking quietly with Miss Farrell and, taking the opportunity, spoke to Miss Farrell.

"May I have the pleasure of dancing a set tonight with you, Miss Farrell?"

His request had obviously caught her by surprise and her response reflected as much, "Why…I had not…Yes, of course, Mr. Darcy." She collected herself further and asked archly, "Do you have a preference, sir?"

He smiled, "The supper set, if it is not already spoken for."

Again she appeared surprised, "Yes…No, it is not spoken for."

"Then I shall be pleased to dance it with you."

He bowed to her and claimed his sister's hand, saying, "I believe they are ready for us now, Georgie."

Georgiana smiled at her friend and allowed him to lead her to the floor. Their dance was quiet, neither of them of a disposition towards idle chatter. Darcy was content that it should be so and spent much of the dance watching Miss Farrell being lead through the patterns by her partner. He danced three more sets with the ladies of his party before allowing himself a respite. Taking up a position by a window, he watched the dancers with one lady prominent in his ruminations. Her figure was womanly and she moved easily and lightly and, if not all of her partners were equally capable in the dance, she gave no sign of displeasure or discomfort, talking easily as she stepped through the figures of the dance.

Finally, it was time to claim her hand for the supper set and, as they began, his thoughts, which hitherto had seemingly of their own volition focused on the dance he shared with Elizabeth Bennet almost three years in the past, returned to the young woman with whom he was about to dance. They had not danced but a few minutes when he became aware that Miss Farrell and he had danced in silence; conversation, which Miss Farrell had bestowed so easily on her previous partners, was absent. He recalled their previous meetings and wondered at her silence since she had spoken freely with him when they last walked together.

As they neared the end of the first dance, he was moved to remark, "I believe we must have some conversation, Miss Farrell."

She looked a trifle surprised but replied, "And on what would you have us speak, Mr. Darcy?"

"As a gentleman, I believe I should leave the choice to you. I would be agreeable to almost anything."

"Shall I comment then on the weather? Or on how nice this ball is?"

Darcy was silent. Her tone, her very expression was withdrawn. Civil she was, but nothing more. With others he had seen her laugh and charm; with him it appeared that she only tolerated his company. He was puzzled. Had he somehow earned her disapprobation? He could think of nothing that would account for such a reaction on her part. Finally, when the pattern of the dance brought them close again he ventured to speak after looking around to ensure that no one could overhear.

"Miss Farrell, have I somehow offended you?"

She looked at him, her mien reflecting the surprise she undoubtedly felt. Her voice, when she at least replied, remained cool.

"I hardly believe you need concern yourself, Mr. Darcy. I can assure you that nothing you have said to me has offended any sensibility of mine"

Darcy was pleased at this assurance although it did not account for her behaviour but this was neither the time or place to explore the matter further. He made several more attempts to engage her in conversation but with only limited success and he wondered at the wisdom of sitting with her through supper. As it was, his thoughts took a turn for the worse when, after the dance was completed and he was going to lead her to the supper tables, she made no move to take his proffered arm, saying instead, "I appreciate that you may not wish for my company at supper, Mr. Darcy. I will not hold you to any obligation to sit with me."

Darcy could not hide his surprise, "Miss Farrell, I believe you mistake the matter altogether. I requested the supper set so that I might sit with you. It would, I assure you, be a pleasure for me; however, if the thought makes you uncomfortable, I will relinquish that pleasure."

Miss Farrell was obviously discomposed at his response, "No…I am…I mean that I would be pleased to sit with you, sir."

Again offering her his arm, they strolled towards the supper tables and, finding two seats, in the company of the Goodwells, Darcy seated his partner and left in search of a plate of food for them both. When he returned some minutes later, it was to find her in quiet conversation with the Goodwells and Georgiana. It was a setting, he knew, where private conversation was not possible, and so set himself the task of being agreeable to those around him. In this he was so successful as to merit several perplexed glances from Miss Farrell and amused ones from his sister. As they were all conversing, they were approached by Mrs. Mandell asking Georgiana and Miss Farrell to perform for them, a request agreed to readily by Georgiana but only with some reluctance by Miss Farrell.

"If my vanity," said she, "had taken a musical turn, I might greet this request with pleasure but, as it is, I would really rather not sit down before those who must be in the habit of hearing the very best performers."

Darcy was not prepared to allow her to denigrate her talents, "Miss Farrell, it would give me and others, I assure you, great pleasure to hear you perform."

She looked at him rather dubiously before agreeing to Mrs. Mandell's request, "I beg of you not to expect too much. My accomplishments are, unfortunately, limited."

Darcy gave a bark of laughter which caused a uniform rising of eyebrows amongst those around him. Miss Farrell appeared to think it a reaction to her disclaimer. And was about to respond when Darcy interjected.

"I must ask your pardon. I was not, you may be sure, responding to your comment, Miss Farrell."

"Might we then share the jest, Darcy?" asked Mr. Goodwell.

"To be sure." He replied, "I was, in fact, thinking of the words of a young lady of my acquaintance who professed an opinion as to the proper accomplishments of a young lady of the highest station. Let me try and remember them." He paused for a moment or two and then continued, "A young lady to be called properly accomplished must, she said, have a thorough knowledge of music, dancing, drawing and the modern languages. And, in addition, must possess a certain something in her air and her manner of walking, her address, her expressions and so on." He began to laugh once more, "She obviously had gone to a seminary where these accomplishments were taught and could see no further."

He smiled at his sister, "I remember saying that I knew, at most, a half dozen such women which the young lady agreed with strongly." He chuckled once more, "However, when another young woman questioned whether I could know any with such attributes, Miss Bi… the first young woman claimed to know many who answered the description. She is, unfortunately, all too common amongst society."

"And what do you consider to be an accomplished woman, Mr. Darcy?" asked Miss Farrell.

Darcy turned thoughtful, "I would, I suppose, agree that a woman should possess some of these qualities; however, I would not consider any such woman accomplished unless she possessed intelligence, a willingness to expand her knowledge of the world by reading and a basic kindness to others. One who would treat a queen and a maid with equal civility and kindness."

The short silence that followed this statement was broken by Mrs. Goodwell who asked Georgiana and Miss Farrell which pieces of music they were to perform and shortly thereafter the entertainment began which perforce had to be attended to by all at the sacrifice of further conversation.

Dancing continued after the entertainment had concluded and Darcy chose to stand and observe for the remainder of the evening. If his attention was focused primarily upon Miss Farrell, it did not appear to be noticed by anyone. The journey back to Derwydd was quiet as fatigue had claimed all of the party.

Darcy's intentions, or perhaps interest is the more appropriate word, had quite escaped everyone's perception other than Georgiana who, upon discerning it, had chosen to conceal her awareness, not really expecting her brother to forward such an interest. She quite liked Miss Farrell, valuing her intelligence and conversation and had only to regret that the difference in their respective circumstances seemed to preclude a closer and more frequent acquaintance. A correspondence had been agreed upon but Miss Farrell's situation in life was not conducive to travel and visits to Town. Miss Farrell was, she believed, one of the very few women of her acquaintance whose primary interest in her was not to achieve a closer association with her brother. It might be said that the lady's reluctance, or lack of interest, did not reduce her merits in Darcy's considerations.

However, their time at Derwydd Hall was coming to an end and to Pemberley they were to return.

 _ **Late-August, 1814 – Somewhere in Scotland**_

 __, Scotland_

 _August 24, 1814_

 _Dearest Jane,_

 _Please forgive my tardiness in writing you. I cannot claim a lack of opportunity, for such is not the case. Please attribute it to a mind, too cluttered with the diversions of a trip, to wish to spend precious hours on anything other than the pleasure of a husband's company and the enjoyments that are to be experienced as we travel to places I have never before experienced. As you already know, we tarried but a week at Oaksley before venturing forth on our wedding trip. It was an indescribable feeling to take up residence there as its Mistress. I shall, I am sure, grow accustomed to the feeling eventually._

 _I will not bore you with an endless description of what we have seen. For that, you must be patient and await my return. I assure you that I have looked upon, and admired, such a variety of prospects, buildings, sites of great historic interest and rocks and glades and hills to satisfy even my most heartfelt wishes. I have quite used up two journals recording all that we have encountered. I could wish that I had learned to draw, for that is truly the only way to capture some of the lovely sites we visited and handsome homes we toured. Words can do little justice unless one is a Wordsworth or Cowper. I freely acknowledge how far short I fall in such endeavours._

 _This trip has proven to be quite different from those I have enjoyed with our aunt and uncle. Anthony is much more inclined to visit sites of historic interest than grand estates and manor house. I dare say he could have stayed in Edinburgh Castle for several more days, if time had permitted. We toured the castle and I fear our guide was embarrassed on one or two occasions when my dear husband gently corrected an error or embellished the account. I am quite determined to expand my own readings of this period of time. If my husband is to be believed, the Scots are a very fractious people. When I mentioned that I wondered at the English desire to add them to our kingdom, my husband laughingly agreed. Apparently they were as much in discord amongst themselves as they were with the English._

 _I will not, as I said, talk of all the sites we visited although a few stand out. Hadrian's Wall, which runs a distance of more than seventy miles, was constructed only a hundred years or so after the birth of our Lord. I cannot fully comprehend the dedication to constructing such an edifice. Anthony tells me that the Great North Road that we traveled to reach Scotland was, over much of its distance, originally constructed by the Romans to enable their armies to repel the barbarians from Scotland who delighted in invading England to pillage and loot. I suspect, from my husband's demeanour, that they did not limit themselves to such activities, but he would not be persuaded to speak on the matter further. You, my dear Jane, would be, I know, content to leave it thus; but I would know it all. I shall have to explore my husband's library more thoroughly._

 _I believe I heard more about William Wallace, Robert the Bruce and other Scottish leaders to last a lifetime! However, it was perhaps not until we came upon the vale of Glencoe that the ferocity of the hatreds between the English and Scots was fully bourn upon me. I cannot reconcile the beauty of the spot, nestled amongst the most beautiful and intimidating mountains, with the terrible massacre that took place there over a hundred years ago. That we, the English, could have ordered the slaughter of so many innocents – women and children – almost makes me weep. I could never return to Glencoe. Its beauty is lost to me._

 _Please forgive me. I had not meant to digress in such a mournful manner. I will, I hope, bring you such amusement, over the rest of this letter, to quite banish such dismal thoughts as I have roused. For as much as my husband enjoys history, he, in equal measure, finds great pleasure in fishing. I am convinced that activity would have by itself made him wish to travel to Scotland where, he assures me, is to be found the best salmon fishing in the kingdom. I remember teasing him, when the possibility of a trip hither was first mentioned, that he was more interested in fishing than in his wife's pleasure. After some persuasion, which I will concede I quite enjoyed, I was convinced to accede to his plans. I, in my most impertinent manner, made my agreement dependent upon my husband teaching me to fish – for you know our uncle would never consent to doing so despite my pleas to learn to fish. I quite forgot that I had extracted such a promise from Anthony; he, however, remembered, and it was with considerable surprise that I was, several days ago, reminded of my impertinence._

 _We had taken a short lease on a cottage near the River Tay some miles north and west of Perth. The day after we settled there, my good husband escorted me outdoors to the small paddock behind the cottage. There he placed in my hands a fishing rod. I had ofttimes seen my uncle's 'tackle' – as I have heard it referred to – but this rod seemed smaller than I expected. Anthony assured me that I would be more easily able to use the rod he had given me – which was intended for a young lad - than his own; and, in truth, he was quite correct. I did attempt to use his rod but it was longer and much heavier than my own and, after a few turns, I was quite exhausted. I sorely regretted my teasing of him to allow me the use of his rod. I said nothing further about using a boy's rod. We spent a most enjoyable hour with him instructing me in the art of casting. I suspect that his enjoyment derived mainly from his pleasure in wrapping his arms around me in order that I learn how to handle the rod and I do believe I received more instruction as a result. There! I am sure I have raised a healthy blush on my sister's cheek._

 _If I have done so then I fear what I am about to relate will quite render you speechless and absolutely scarlet. You see, as my husband informed me the following day, my skirts were quite inappropriate garments if one wished to fish the pools where the salmon were to be found; and, he assured me, we would have to walk over some difficult grounds and on paths where skirts would be a hindrance. Imagine my surprise and mortification when he presented me with his solution – a pair of breeches or 'breeks', as they are called here in Scotland. I was, it seems, to wear them under my skirts when we walked out and to divest myself of the skirts in the carriage upon our arrival into the country and to walk about in just my breeks. You can well imagine my reluctance and it was only Anthony's assurance that we would be quite alone throughout the whole adventure that allowed me to agree to his proposal._

 _It is well that I heeded my husband, as the paths were truly overgrown with brambles and bushes. My skirts would most likely have been torn to shreds. I found that I quite enjoyed the outing; not perhaps to the same degree as my husband, but it is one that I did repeat on two more occasions. I even managed to catch a salmon, to the delight of my husband and myself. It seemed to me to be a fierce battle as the beast took the fly on the end of my line – and promptly attempted to relieve me of my rod and position on the shore. I feared for a scant second or two that I would be pulled into the pool, so surprised was I at his actions. Fortunately, I was able to retain my footing and was blessed in that the beast did not remove all the line from my wheel before running out of room and speeding to the other end of the pool. My dear husband was shouting at me loudly – Turn the wheel! Turn the wheel! – it took me a second or two to grasp his meaning. He wanted me to turn the wheel and retrieve all the line that the fish had drawn out. It was a hasty business, and I can vouch for the fact that the salmon's intelligence must have been of the lowest possible order not to escape my clutches. I was the veriest idiot at the end of the rod. However, after some five minutes or more, I was able to draw him in. A fine beast, he was. All of two pounds and I had the full measure of him that evening at the dining table. My dear husband also had some success, catching three more fish, two of which were much larger than mine. He was most pleased with our day's adventure and I suspect no small part of his pleasure arose from walking behind me. He seemed to take a greater pleasure than is normal when we are out walking. I wonder why? I am shameless, am I not?_

 _It will shock you I know but I was becoming quite comfortable wearing the breeches and enjoying the freedom. Men are to be envied in this regard. At any rate, just before we were to depart, I took it upon myself, without any assistance from my husband, to change the location from which I was fishing. I espied a lovely rock from which to cast and was happily making my way thither, jumping as carefree as you could imagine, from one rock to another. I had successfully gained my objective when I lost my balance and fell head first into the pool! To my relief, it proved to be shallow at that spot; I was only subject to a great soaking and the reproaches of a very worried husband. However, once seeing me safely standing in water to my waist, he was quite mirthful and asked about the size of the fish that had dragged me in. I am glad one of us got some pleasure from the event – although my retribution later that day was quite satisfactory to us both. You are familiar perhaps with the practise of some society women to wet down their muslin dresses and why they would do so. I can inform you that it is extremely effective. I take comfort that we encountered no one on our return as my appearance was quite shameless. Anthony did not appear to object in the slightest._

 _It is with no little reluctance that I view our departure tomorrow. While I have no cause to repine my husband's company at Oaksley, we always appear to have many people around us. These past weeks, despite the presence of my maid and Anthony's valet, we were left very much alone and it has drawn us closer. I cannot say I have known a finer man than Anthony, and my respect and esteem for him grows with each day that passes. I can attest to the charms of a blazing fire in the fireplace with my husband beside me reading the poetry of Robert Burns. I particularly favour 'A Red, Red Rose'. I will say no more but do recommend the activity for the enjoyment of you and James. I would be happy to welcome another niece or nephew!_

 _I have hopes that you, James and the babe will be able to visit us in October which month, Anthony assures me, can show Wiltshire to great advantage. You must allow me to return all the hospitality that you gave me before my marriage and I will hold you to your promise of a month's visit. I will quite depend upon it. However else will I be able to tell all that I have seen on this trip?_

 _Your loving sister,_

 _Elizabeth W._

Mrs. Campbell entered the room and coughed to capture Elizabeth's attention. "Mrs. Waring, the laird is here."

The Laird, Ian McAllister, was the principal landowner in the area and the one who had granted permission for them to fish on his lands.

"Very well, Mrs. Campbell. My husband is out at the stables checking on our carriage. Will you please have someone inform him of the Laird's presence?"

Mrs. Campbell nodded and then showed the Laird into the small parlour. He and Elizabeth made polite conversation for several minutes until Waring entered the room. Mr. McAllister rose to greet him.

"I was in the area and thought to call, to wish you well on your trip home. I know you plan to leave early in the morning. The day looks to be fine and you should have an easy trip. Where do you plan to stop?"

"We thought to stop at Perth for a day before continuing."

This met with the Laird's approval and several spots were suggested for them to visit while there. As he was about to take his leave, he turned to Elizabeth, and she thought she detected a twinkle in his eye. "I have heard the most…interesting rumour, Mrs. Waring, which, I assure you, I most definitely stated to be false."

"Rumour, sir?"

"Yes, indeed. It appears that someone believes that you were fishing with your husband. I know that the rumour must be false as it was claimed you were wearing breeks. Quite impossible, is it not Mr. Waring?"

Her husband laughed, "Quite impossible! What can the person have been thinking? A woman in breeches? Never!"

The Laird began to laugh as he tried to ignore Elizabeth's flushed face and waved his good-byes as he took his departure.

Elizabeth murmured, "I wonder if I dare ever return here!" as she watched him walk down the path to his horse.

Waring came up behind her, wrapped his arms around her and nuzzled her neck. "I think we may return whenever we wish, my dear. Whenever we wish!"


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

 _ **August - Pemberley, Derbyshire**_

The Darcys departed for Pemberley a few days later, having stayed with the Goodwells until the Monday following the ball. The last day or so was spent quietly and, while they were to see the Farrells once more, it was only to take leave of them. An expression of wishing to meet again was made but no plans laid for such an outcome; neither Darcy nor Georgiana detected any expectation on the part of the Farrells for it to take place. The Goodwells had extended an invitation to their Harvest Ball, an offer which Darcy tentatively accepted, although expressing uncertainty as to whether he could fulfill the obligation.

Once settled in at Pemberley, the routine tasks associated with managing the estate absorbed much of his attention for the first fortnight; however, as such demands waned, thoughts of his future waxed more completely. There was something that had been simmering at the back of his mind for some months and now he had the solitude and time to bring it forward for rational consideration and ultimately, he hoped, a decision. He knew himself to be a rational creature; one who preferred to approach any important matter calmly and arrive at a decision only after a careful consideration of all those facets of the issue which lay under his control. The only occasion where he had acted in a less than rational manner had been his proposal to Elizabeth Bennet where his emotions and arrogance had driven him to behave with such manners and voice expressions as to be a cause of regret for all his days. Not, he told himself, that he regretted his attachment to her. That he would never do.

Those dreams of having Elizabeth Bennet as his wife, he believed he must put aside; and, in truth, he hardly remembered her countenance now - more than two years would dim the strongest memories - although he also believed that, should he meet her but once, he would be as lost as ever he was. However, she had made her opinion of him very clear and, while he may have defended his honour and actions in regards of Wickham and also her sister, her dislike was founded on his behaviour prior to such events and that matter he could not address if he could not meet her again and that he could see no means of achieving. Her dismissal was an absolute he could not deny and she could not help but also hold him accountable for the damage that Wickham had done to her family. It had been his responsibility to prevent Wickham from harming her, or any other family; a responsibility he had shirked because he believed his private affairs took precedence over those of anyone else. No, he must accept that Elizabeth Bennet was now lost to him.

And yet, that very compulsion to propose to Elizabeth Bennet, had woken in him desires that had been hitherto dormant. The desire for a companion, for an heir… more accurately perhaps, a family – one of his dreams had involved himself and Elizabeth with several children around them - and for a mistress for Pemberley, had become too strong to ignore. He knew he could not continue his solitary life. Georgiana would eventually leave; he knew for a certainty - whether it was one year or five years - she would marry and move to live with her husband, and then his solitary condition would become absolute.

That he had lost his heart to Elizabeth Bennet need not, he knew, prevent an attachment to another. He could not bestow the same affection on another and, that was unfortunate, but it would not prevent him from marrying. The marriage would be one of convenience perhaps, rather than love, although that should not preclude a strong and mutual affection developing between him and his wife. He could not - he would not - enter into a marriage where affection and esteem were missing or were unlikely to be established. Therein lay his problem.

For one brief moment he considered driving to Hertfordshire and courting Elizabeth properly. That happy thought lasted only as long as it took for a bitter memory to resurface. _"I had not known you a month before I realized that you were the last man I could be prevailed upon to marry."_ It was not Wickham, it was not his interference in his friend's attachment to her sister, it was more basic still. She had taken him in dislike, for whatever reason, from the first moment of their acquaintance and such a dislike had not been addressed by his letter to her. A courtship would fail. Of that he was certain. He must….must….put her behind him and move on.

His own excellent parents' marriage had been arranged. His father and mother had scarcely known each other when they became betrothed; however, a lengthy betrothal period of some eight months had allowed them to come to a better understanding. His father, before his death, had confided that although he and his wife had not been in love when they married, they had each developed a strong respect for the other prior to exchanging their vows and, over the course of their fifteen year marriage, between them a strong affection and esteem had grown. If it was not love, the difference was trivial and Darcy had no reason to question his father's distress at the death of his wife and Darcy's mother.

The days he had spent escorting Georgiana through her first season had not been devoted strictly to her interests. More than one young woman had signaled her interest in him; unfortunately, the season was exemplary for meeting a potential partner but poorly designed to determining their character. The superficiality of their interaction precluded achieving any such understanding. He had met and called upon one or two young women in whom he thought to see a propensity for more than trivial conversation. A wit or liveliness that could prove interesting was sufficient to draw his initial interest. However, one, or in several cases, two personal encounters had proven unsatisfactory - disappointing even. Should he wish to develop a good understanding of a woman, it would be necessary to enter into a courtship. Any marked interest by him would be taken as a courtship, unofficial perhaps, but a courtship nonetheless. Indeed, even the few calls he had made had been noted with particular interest and been commented upon by some of his acquaintance. He could not court out of the public eye in London and some censure would surely follow should he be seen to withdraw his attentions after having directed them to a particular lady.

If he wished to select a bride from amongst those available in his level of society, he could be sure of an attachment that provided connections, wealth and beauty. Given how eagerly his company was sought, he doubted that, for many, a courtship – other than a nominal one – would even be necessary. The arrogance that such an opinion represented, he could now appreciate and disparage; it had contributed to the failure of his proposal – he had never expected to be refused by Elizabeth Bennet and the shock had angered him greatly until he realized how little respect for her it embodied.

The more he considered the matter, the greater his discontent. He had moved amongst that….flock - which he thought was not an inappropriate term – for seven or eight years. None had captured his interest for more than a short time. Caroline Bingley was, he knew, not unusual in her manners and accomplishments. Her education was intended to enhance her capabilities of catching, or securing, a husband; one who would enhance her status in society. It was not an end in and of itself. He doubted, from his experience, that more than one of every hundred society women read anything but fashion plates and the most trivial novels. The hypocrisy and insincerity that Caroline Bingley displayed while residing in Hertfordshire had, if she had only realized it, made him aware of how unsuitable she was to be mistress of an estate like Pemberley. True, Hertfordshire society, and that of Meryton in particular, was unrefined and boisterous but so was much of country society in general. His manners while there, he had come to realize, were polite but his reticence and hauteur had displayed a want of civility that he would never have shown in Derbyshire amongst people with whom he was familiar. If Miss Bingley looked down on Hertfordshire society, she would not be more pleased with that of Derbyshire – nor would they be pleased with her – except insofar as she had achieved the superior status of Mistress of Pemberley and could express her condescension freely to her neighbours. She could not treat his tenants or servants so, and yet she could hardly do otherwise as she believed herself to be their superior and felt no constraint in displaying it. No, Caroline Bingley and her like were not to be considered and he was not in a mood to canvas London society any further.

He wished, if he could not marry Elizabeth Bennet, to find such a woman as he could respect and grow to love. And it was almost a shock when he realized he may well have finally done so.

He remembered his words at the Mandell's ball - _I would not consider any such woman accomplished unless she possessed intelligence, a willingness to expand her knowledge of the world by reading and a basic kindness to others. One who would treat a queen and a maid with equal civility and kindness._

Miss Judith Farrell.

He was not sure when she first attracted his serious attention, but it had not taken many meetings for him to wish to know her better. He had paid considerable attention to her discussions with his sister and others and his own conversations with her, limited though they were, had allowed him to glean much information about her. That she was intelligent had been quickly apparent; she discussed a variety of subjects intelligibly and, if her knowledge was lacking in some areas, she had disclosed a willingness to improve her mind. He must credit her father for having raised her so, as her mother, while kind and caring, did not appear to be as learned as her husband.

It had not taken him long to realize she shared many similarities with Elizabeth Bennet. While taller and more fully formed, her mannerisms and behaviour were lively; she conversed readily with those she met and she possessed, he believed, much of Elizabeth's civility although he had not seen it tested to the same degree. Miss Farrell had not had to be civil in the face of his aunt's overbearing and intrusive condescension nor with the insincerity and pettiness of Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst; nevertheless, he did not doubted not her ability to handle them with equal aplomb. He had observed her carefully at several dinners and again at the Assembly Ball. Her manners and ease were such as to not betray to one who did not know her that she was the daughter of a rector would appear to speak poorly for her circumstances but, if Mrs. Goodwell was to be believed, and why should she not, when the rector was the son of a Baron and therefore of some consequence. Her position should have afforded her little exposure to good society. That thought struck him forcibly. She could not, in normal circumstances, have had sufficient exposure to that level of local society enjoyed by the Goodwells and to be so obviously at home in it. The invitation of the Farrells by other memebers of the local society was rather unusual since the Farrells and seemed inconsistent with the station in life. He must inquire on that when he returned but he suspected that their connection to Baron _ gave them more status in the community than would otherwise be the case.

He remained undecided. It was, he knew, not a matter of pursuing Judith Farrell as much as it was finally relinquishing any aspirations that he might still harbour in respect of Elizabeth Bennet. The thought that he might offer for someone who reminded him of Elizabeth when he could still pursue Elizabeth was disturbing to say the least. She remained, in his estimation, the most desirable woman of his acquaintance. Was there a way to try again with Elizabeth?

Several days passed slowly as he attempted to resolve this conflict. It was a letter from his cousin, Colonel Fiitzwilliam, that put an end to his reservations as to his proper course of action. His cousin's letter was replete with all the usual discussion - he might almost call it gossip - of the Fitzwilliam family and some of his superiors. Richard noted that the war with the United States was heating up but that he was fortunate to escape assignment to the Canadas. Darcy was relieved to learn that news as he had feared such a fate for him. However, it was a small bit of news that startled Darcy most.

 _"...I was reading the wedding announcements this morning - you know mother insists on being kept au courant but has trouble with the fine print. I do the duty for her when she can trap me. At any rate, you will remember, I am sure, Miss Elizabeth Bennet whom we met two years ago at Rosings; I thought you might be interested to learn that she has married recently. An Anthony Waring from Wiltshire. Such a fine young woman. I am surprised it took as long for her to marry but perhaps her lack of a dowry was a problem. I am glad that the situation with her younger sister did not ruin her chances for a decent match. Of course, I know nothing of Waring and mother has never heard the name so it is unlikely he moves in the first circles."_

Elizabeth Bennet had married. Until he read the news of her in his cousin's letter, Darcy had not realized how much she still commanded his thoughts. He felt as though he was suffocating; she was lost to him now forever, and any hopes he might have had to start over were now destroyed. He knew he was not being rational. It was long past the time for him to move on with his life and that life might include Judith Farrell. It would certainly not include Elizabeth Bennet.

He could not – would not – fool himself; Miss Farrell, as appealing as she was, remained a pale imitation of Elizabeth Bennet. He did not love her and could not say with certainty that he ever would, but if they married she would always have his respect and esteem.

The thought of a life with her was not unpleasant, and he realized that he had arrived at a decision to approach her, albeit without as much conscious thought as was his wont. It had, nonetheless, been a rational and reasoned process and he could find no fault with the conclusion. He would offer for Miss Farrell. Whether she would accept him, was a question he could not answer and he realized he would have to visit her again and court her properly. Before he did so, however, he needed to have settlement papers drafted, a process which was initiated several hours later when a letter to his solicitors, containing the basics of his terms, was drafted and sent. He suspected it would take the best part of a fortnight for the document to be finalized. There were two more tasks which must be undertaken. The first, to write the Goodwells to accept their invitation to attend the Harvest Ball and seek to remain with them for a fortnight, was quickly completed. He knew that his request was sure to cause speculation which his intentions towards Miss Farrell would, he knew, quickly answer.

The second task was possibly more problematic. He could not, in good conscience, visit the Goodwells without discussing his intentions with Georgiana who, he knew, was corresponding with Miss Farrell. There had already been one exchange of letters and his proposed trip - and Georgiana's speculations - might easily be included in another, unless he acted to suppress them first.

A week later he received a reply from the Goodwells which, as he read, elicited a chuckle.

 _Derwydd Hall near Oswestry, Shropshire_

 _August _, 1814_

 _Dear Darcy_

 _We received your letter with no little surprise, I assure you, and it is with considerable delight that we learn you wish to visit us once more and so soon after your previous visit._

 _I am not so naïve as to believe that there is not some ulterior motive to your visit; Alice and I will, no doubt, spend countless hours speculating upon your reasons. Do not expect, old friend, to leave us in ignorance for long after you arrive. Much as you might delight in our company - and we, in yours – we cannot believe that to be the reason for your visit._

 _I will tease you no further. Be assured, Darcy, that we will not press you on the matter and, should you choose to confide in us, that such confidences as you share will remain private._

 _You did not indicate in your letter that your sister would accompany you but be assured that, if she wishes to do so, she will be as welcome as yourself. We await your arrival and expect to see you on the September _._

 _As ever, your friend,_

 _Henry Goodwell_

 _ **Mid-September, 1814 - Derwydd Hall, Shropshire**_

The Darcy carriage turned onto the road to Derwydd Hall, its lone occupant lost in thought and quite oblivious to the fall colours that were just starting to tinge the foliage of the trees. The past month had not been overly hectic; estate business has occupied much of his attention and he had busied himself in overseeing preparations for the year's harvest. The Pemberley Harvest Festival was a month in the future which, if events transpired as he hoped, he would attend with his betrothed, and he could take comfort in the prospects of a bumper harvest unlike that of the previous year which had been poor.

He was, in equal parts, pleased and disappointed that Georgiana had chosen not to accompany him. He would have welcomed her support and company and yet, if she were to have been present, he would have had to share Miss Farrell's company with her to some extent. She herself had pointed this out and suggested that if he was to court Miss Farrell, she might well be a distraction for them both. He was indebted for that singular piece of advice. He had thought to approach Mr. Farrell to seek permission to court his daughter before speaking to her but Georgiana recommended that he speak to Miss Farrell first. "I would" opined Georgiana, "much prefer to have the choice of whether to enter a courtship or not before consent is sought and given by my father or, in my case, my brother. Speak to her first, Brother."

Time had not shaken his resolve; rather he had become even more convinced that it was the right decision on his part. Georgiana was, in equal parts, surprised and pleased when informed of his intentions; now, all that was required was to convince Miss Farrell to accept. He did not know her feelings towards him; if she had any at all, they were quite well hidden. He did not believe she disliked him although he had, in their latest encounters, noticed a degree of coolness for which he had no explanation. He did not delude himself that she would accept his offer simply because of who he was and what he possessed. Such arrogance he had perforce to discard. Elizabeth Bennet had cured him of the belief that a woman of character would accept any marriage offered to her, that his wealth and status would ensure acceptance. Miss Farrell was a woman of character; raised by such a father, how could she be anything else? He had, in fact, spent much of his time countering such arguments as she, or her father, might pose in objection to the match. He had ten days to pay his attentions to her before the Goodwell's Harvest Ball and he hoped to have the matter settled by then; however, should a longer period be necessary, with the Goodwells' consent, he would stay as long as it took to effect a decision on her part.

He was greeted by Henry Goodwell as he stepped down from his carriage. If his friend was beset by curiosity as to the reason for his visit – and how could he not be – he was too well-mannered to make any obvious inquiries. Darcy knew, however, that an explanation was due them, and in any event, he suspected that his purpose would all too soon become readily apparent. He saw no particular need to hide it, provided it could be held in confidence by his friend and his wife. He rather suspected a quizzing might begin later, much later, that evening and he had prepared himself for it.

"I expect you both are quite curious as to why I invited myself back." Darcy did not try to mask the touch of amusement in his voice as he gazed at the Goodwells. The three of them were comfortably ensconced in Henry's library and, since he wished to avoid a servant overhearing their conversation, quite private. Henry and his wife had been very careful to avoid raising the matter of his visit; partly, he was sure, from a sense of delicacy in not wanting to pry into his personal affairs and partly because they knew Darcy would not wish to discuss personal affairs where servants might overhear. Fortunately, Henry's mother was visiting her daughter and would be away for a month or more, and there were no other guests. He did not fail to notice the surprise on the faces of his friends at his statement. Clearly they had not expected him to initiate the discussion. Mrs. Goodwell recovered first.

"Of course, but we would not press the matter and you should feel no need to tell us. You are a very good friend and a most welcome guest."

"Thank you. Nonetheless, I am imposing upon you and, since my purpose will, in fact, become quite obvious very shortly, no real purpose would be served by not telling you the object of my visit beforehand."

Henry Goodwell finally found his voice, "We are now all anticipation, Darcy." He chuckled, "Come, come, do not prolong the suspense."

Darcy smiled in return, "It is quite simple, really. I have come to court, and offer for, Miss Farrell."

Whatever the Goodwells may have expected, clearly their speculations had not encompassed this possibility. Henry Goodwell mouth remained open. Mrs. Goodwell appeared equally amazed, albeit with more dignity, and possessed sufficient presence of mind to admonish her husband playfully, "Close your mouth, Henry."

This appeared to activate Henry Goodwell's vocal chords and he blurted, "You are serious, Darcy? You plan to offer for Miss Farrell? Does she know of your intentions?"

"Yes, I am serious! Yes, I intend to make an offer! And no, she does not know. I must ask you both to respect my privacy on this matter."

Mrs. Goodwell looked at Darcy ruefully, "I cannot deny my amazement. I had not detected any interest in her on your part, or any on hers. You must both be incredibly sly."

"I cannot, of course, speak for Miss Farrell but I have learned through sad experience to hide any interest I might feel for a young, unmarried woman." And that has served me remarkably ill in the past, he thought.

Henry Goodwell remained dubious, "It will not be easy…she will face considerable…" he paused, searching for the proper word.

"Opposition?" offered his wife.

"Ill-treatment?" suggested Darcy.

"Both of those, I am sure, but I was thinking more in terms of pressure or expectations, perhaps. She is but a rector's daughter, after all, despite her connections to Baron _. She is certainly not of the circle in which you generally move.

"True. Very true." He paused briefly, "But perhaps you could answer a question that has plagued me slightly?" He looked questioningly at Mrs. Goodwell who responded with a nod and a puzzled expression. "Miss Farrell appears unusually comfortable, for one from her station in your level of society, does she not?"

Mrs. Goodwell nodded once more, understanding his implicit question, but looked towards her husband to respond. He did not fail of the office, saying "Indeed, she is. She and my younger sister are much of an age, you know, and were extremely close before my sister's marriage. My family did not discourage the acquaintance and Miss Farrell was introduced, and supported, to the degree her father would countenance, amongst our friends. She and my sister came "out" together and were close throughout the season."

Darcy was surprised, "Miss Farrell had a season in town?"

"Indeed she did." Said his friend, "and she was quite popular; however, I believe her lack of dowry limited interest in her when it came to suitors applying for her hand." He laughed, "It did not appear to bother her greatly and she returned here in much the same spirits as she left."

Goodwell chuckled briefly and glanced at his wife who was studiously looking at her hands, her lips curved in a slight smile. "Indeed, at one time there was some talk amongst our neighbours of a possible attachment between us." He shook his head with a wry smile, "Nonsense, of course, We, neither of us, considered the other as anything but a good friend. She was much as a sister to me. And…" he switched his gaze from Darcy back to his wife, "….I had already met the woman I wished to marry and could think of no other."

A not uncomfortable silence pervaded the room for several moments before it was broken.

"You think she might refuse?" asked Alice Goodwell with a quizzical look, hoping perhaps to redirect the subject as much as to discover the answer to her question.

"I will certainly put my offer in such terms as to make it likely that she will accept but I can assume nothing."

"Very wise!" laughed Henry Goodwell.

Alice Goodwell remained pensive for a few moments before addressing Darcy, "How do you propose…" she grinned, "not the most appropriate term I suppose but be that as it may – how do you propose to approach Miss Farrell?"

Darcy smiled as he considered her question for a few thoughtful seconds before responding. He was glad she had asked since he had wished to seek her counsel on this exact matter.

"Tomorrow, being Sunday, I expected you would be inviting the Farrells to dine as usual. I had thought…hoped to speak to her then and arrange to either call on her the next day or meet her during her daily walk."

"And a chaperone? You cannot meet her, alone and in private, with any regularity, without a chaperone. Think of her reputation."

Darcy grimaced. He had not thought of that complication. His meetings with Elizabeth had been sporadic and hence could be undertaken in private with few concerns. Besides, his Aunt Catherine would certainly have wished to suppress any possible rumours of his conducting a courtship when his Cousin Anne was not the principal object.

"Perhaps I should have asked Georgiana to have accompanied me, after all." He murmured.

"It might not be a bad idea to invite her here. I cannot provide the service, I am afraid. Not on a regular basis, at least." stated Alice Goodwell. "And I would guess you plan to meet with Miss Farrell every day, if possible. I might be able able to provide a maid to chaperone your visits with Miss farrell but Georgiana would, I believe, be the better choice if it can be arranged. "

Darcy nodded, "I will send an express to Georgiana. I am quite sure she will be eager to come. She remained behind as she believed she might be a distraction."

"Send for her, Darcy. She will not do your courtship any harm."

Following services the next day, the Goodwells did indeed extend an invitation to the Farrells to dine that evening which was readily accepted, and Darcy, anticipating the opportunity, was quick to offer his carriage to bring them to Derwydd Hall. This also was gratefully accepted. And so it was that, at five in the evening, Miss Farrell was surprised to encounter Mr. Darcy entering the parsonage parlour.

"Mr. Darcy, I did not expect …."

Darcy smiled slightly, "Good evening, Miss Farrell. I did say to expect me at five, did I not?"

"I...we had thought only that you would send the carriage, Mr. Darcy."

"Ah, I see. I wished to be assured of your comfort."

Mrs. Farrell bustled into the room, acknowledged Darcy's presence and then bustled out again to collect her husband. Within minutes they were comfortably situated in the carriage and making the short journey to Derwydd Hall. Darcy, while attending the conversation of Mrs. Farrell, frequently glanced at Miss Farrell and, if she had been aware of his glances, her bemusement at his accompanying them in the first instance, would have been greater still. She was not only surprised that he had personally come to collect them – such attention seemed more particular than she had expected – but the warmth of his eyes when he had addressed her was ….unexpected. She could not fathom what he could mean by it.

Darcy was determined that while he would not be so excessively attentive to Miss Farrell as to alarm her, he would attempt to speak with her as often as the situation permitted. In this effort, he was ably assisted by his friends. Mr. Goodwell drew Mr. Farrell's conversation and Mrs. Goodwell, his wife's, allowing Darcy sit in a chair adjoining Miss Farrell's and engage her in conversation. That trace of coolness he had noticed in their previous encounters had returned and it took some time and persistence on his part for her interest to become sufficiently engaged so as to respond with less reserve. It was only when he began to solicit her opinion on a novel that he had just completed, that she truly seemed to relax.

"I am amazed, sir, that a gentleman would read this novel."

"Did you not recommend it to me yourself, Miss Farrell?" His tone, teasing.

She was thoughtful for a few moments, obviously casting her mind back over previous meetings. "I believe you are correct, Mr. Darcy."

" I quite enjoyed the story. The author has a pleasing ability to sketch characters and the plot is void of those contrivances that one so often encounters in a romantic novel."

"It is not a work that I would expect a gentleman to enjoy, sir, dealing, as it does, mostly with the thoughts of young women."

"I will not deny that I suspect the gentlemen who are described act, perhaps, in ways I think unlikely; but, as the author is a woman, I cannot fault that aspect. I would expect that you find her portrayal of the women more to your satisfaction."

"I do indeed, although it does not appear to me that her sketches of the gentlemen are deficient."

"Perhaps not, but consider the matter further. Do you not find those sketches of female characters by a gentleman author somewhat lacking? Can one sex truly understand the feelings and beliefs of the other?"

Miss Farrell contemplated his words and Darcy allowed her to do so in silence. Finally, in a rather hesitant tone, she replied, "I will not deny that, in some particulars, one sex cannot fully comprehend the concerns and apprehensions of the other, but in the greater issues, I tend to believe there is an equal ability to share and understand."

Darcy nodded thoughtfully, "You are probably correct, Miss Farrell. It is always a mistake, I believe, to attach too much importance to such differences as distinguish our respective genders, and especially doing so at the expense of those matters where there is, or can be, a common understanding." He paused thoughtfully wondering if this was an opportune moment to canvas her opinion on marriage. "For instance," said he, "Marriage is a matter on which there are many varying opinions and one wonders if women, as a rule, view marriage differently than men?"

Miss Farrell appeared ready to respond and Darcy thought he had sparked, in her, an interest in the subject; however, further conversation was shortly interrupted, to the satisfaction of neither, by the need to remove to the small dining room. The table there sat only six comfortably and provided for easy conversation for all. As seating was by choice, Darcy found himself sitting to Mrs. Goodwell's right and across from Mr. Farrell. While he wished to continue his conversation with Miss Farrell on the subject of marriage, he could not repine the arrangement, even though it made such a discourse impossible. He found her attention quite absorbed by his friend, Mr. Goodwell, who was quite determined to attach her conversation to himself; however, since the meal itself was sumptuous and the company amiable, her conversation was ultimately shared more widely. When the meal was finished and the women removed to the drawing room, Mr. Farrell turned to Darcy.

"Mr. Goodwell assures me, Mr. Darcy, that you are quite the chess player. He goes so far as to confess a reluctance to play you as your matches invariably reveal his ineptness at the game. Does he speak truly?"

"I play the game to be sure. I would never speak to my friend's competence although it does seem to me that our matches are usually of a short duration." He raised an eyebrow at Mr. Farrell, "You play then, sir?"

"Indeed I do, sir. Perhaps we might arrange to play a game."

"I would like that very much. A challenging match would be most welcome. I never thought to find one here." The last was said with a small smile at his friend who only grimaced and raised his glass in a mock salute.

"Perhaps you might visit….tomorrow or the next night, if that is more convenient." suggested Mr. Farrell.

It was soon agreed that Darcy would visit Tuesday night after supper and the gentlemen joined the ladies shortly thereafter. The Farrells stayed for another hour only and made as to leave when Darcy's carriage had been readied. He accompanied them out, assisted the ladies into the vehicle itself, and was about to join them himself, when Mr. Farrell exclaimed, "Mr. Darcy, you need not accompany us home. We shall be quite safe."

"I have no doubt of that, Mr. Farrell. Nevertheless, I shall not be dissuaded." And, seeing them all seated, instructed the driver to proceed. The short trip was made mostly in silence with Mrs. Farrell mainly interested in expressing her appreciation for the kindness of the Goodwells in having them to dine, and to Mr. Darcy for the use of his carriage. When they arrived at the parsonage, Darcy exited first and moved quickly to secure Miss Farrell's hand to assist her out and then retained his possession when she had alighted, drawing her to one side as her father assisted his wife and led her inside, looking over his shoulder at Darcy as he approached the door. Darcy slowed his pace as they approached the entrance, looked at Miss Farrell and speaking softly, said, "Miss Farrell, I believe it is your habit to walk in the mornings. Is it not?"

Miss Farrell assented, looking slightly puzzled.

"May I join you tomorrow morning? I much enjoy a walk myself."

That Miss Farrell was surprised could not be denied and it was several moments before she could respond, assuring him that his company would be agreeable and fixing upon a time that they might meet. When he showed her to the door of the parsonage, her final glance at him as she took her leave was replete with confusion and speculation.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

 _ **September, 1814 - Oswestry, Shropshire**_

Darcy sat in his chambers, addressing himself to the posts that had arrived early this morning. Most of the missives dealt with his myriad business affairs; however, one had immediately captured his interest. He had known its author as soon as he saw the handwriting. It was always a wonder to him that Bingley's mail ever reached its correct destination - his handwriting was truly appalling.

He scanned the letter, deciphering it as best he could. He had last spoken to Charles before he went to visit his aunt in Kent and his friend had apparently been quite active in London society in the meantime. The letter was awash with stories of his several visits to friends, parties, dances, shooting parties, and the acquaintances he had met. His tone was more light-hearted than it was last winter and his satisfaction with his life quite evident. Darcy could wish that his friend would pursue the purchase of an estate; however, that object no longer appeared to hold much interest for Bingley. Once the Netherfield lease had been surrendered, Bingley declined any assistance to settle in another estate and appeared quite content to reside in London and visit friends whenever the wish for the country arose. Such invitations were in no way difficult to procure. His sister, Caroline, also appeared quite happy with this state of affairs, never having desired to leave the city. Darcy easily understood that her appreciation for an estate and country life was founded rather more on being able to claim the status of ownership than a desire to actually live upon one and deal with country society. As he read the letter, he could not but return to one paragraph.

" _Caroline introduced me to a Miss Amanda Nelson this summer whilst we were staying at the Horwoods in Sussex. We spent a fortnight there – hunting, you know. I had new gun – rifled – and wished to try it out. Excellent piece – shot a half dozen birds any day I was out. Quite the triumph and I was much envied. I am willing to guess that Horwood and Martin, in particular, will want to buy one for themselves. Green with envy, I assure you. Anyway, I met Miss Nelson – she is truly is as beautiful as an angel. Caroline cannot sing her praises too much and, now that we have returned to town, has quite furthered our acquaintance. I have been calling upon her for a week now and find myself very much lost. Caroline has done all that she can to promote Miss Nelson and, while I usually find such efforts on her part to be disagreeable, in this instance I am quite reconciled to them. Miss Nelson is an angel!"_

Darcy did not know what to think on this matter. He was innately suspicious of any attempts by Miss Bingley to fix her brother's attentions on a lady who, if she found her tolerable, might well reflect only those traits that Caroline espoused – connections and fortune – which were, in his opinion, of the most ubiquitous form. He did not know the lady and his urge to advise his friend – who, interestingly enough, had not sought any such advice – warred with the knowledge of his failure the last time he attempted to provide counsel in such a personal matter.

He was in no position at this time to act on his friend's behalf even should he choose to do so. He would write to Bingley but, since he did not know the lady, any advice he tendered would have to be of the most general nature. The responsibility for discerning Miss Nelson's motives would fall to Bingley; unfortunately, he had proven consistently incapable of making such judgements wisely. If he, Darcy, had erred in assessing Miss Bennet's heart, his friend had been even less discerning in determining the predatory motives of other young women. No, if he was to interfere, Darcy knew he would have to meet Miss Nelson and judge accordingly. Yet he could quite possibly be unable to do so for several months - perhaps longer – and he knew his friend too well to expect him to wait if he was frequently in the company of this Miss Nelson. The best Darcy felt he could do was to write and express his concerns, and this he resolved to do later that day. Further action was beyond either his capabilities or, as he thought on the matter, his interest. Bingley would have to assume responsibility for his decisions.

A check of his timepiece suggested that he need not collect Georgiana and depart to meet Miss Farrell for another quarter hour. He allowed himself to relax and, if his thoughts had tended in that direction, he would have known himself a contented man. His courtship, for he had declared himself to Miss Farrell, was off to an auspicious beginning.

The past Monday she had been sitting on the bench in front of the parsonage and rose to greet him as he strode up the path. After the usual pleasantries, Miss Farrell indicated that she was required to carry a basket – a burden for which he was quick to provide relief - to a family in need of some assistance and so they strolled out in the appropriate direction. Neither was inclined to speak at first and so the first few minutes contained a surfeit of silence. A tentative question from Darcy on the problem facing the family they were to visit, induced a sufficiency of discourse until they reached the objects of Miss Farrell's charity whose circumstances were obviously strained. An injured husband, unable to work, had its usual consequences and the family, which included three children, faced serious hardships until he returned to health. Fortunately, the care of their friends and neighbours and assistance from the parish could see them through the worst. Miss Farrell did little but listen and commiserate, but her solicitude and company was clearly welcomed and Darcy could only marvel at her ease in such surroundings. He would have been content with observing her actions; however, the oldest daughter, a child of some eight years, reminded him of Georgiana at a similar age, and, detecting much of the same shyness that characterized his sister, he spoke gently to her. He was shortly rewarded by a smile and a little conversation. When they finally took their leave after a half hour visit, his bow to the young lady was returned by a clumsy, but earnest, curtsy.

As they resumed their walk, Miss Farrell cast a curious glance at him.

'You amaze me, Mr. Darcy. I would not have expected you to befriend such a child."

Darcy looked at her askance, "Why would I not?"

"You must admit her family's circumstances are much below your own."

"I know you are not so particular, Miss Farrell, else you would not have been so at ease in their company. That you believe me to be so, however, I find rather discomforting. You must believe me to be insufferably proud. What have I done to warrant such censure?"

Miss Farrell coloured with embarrassment. "I meant no censure, Mr. Darcy. I simply had not thought you would be so much at ease."

"I cannot claim to have been at ease, Miss Farrell. I am never comfortable in company with those I do not know well. However, I am master of an estate that contains a large number of tenant and servant families and I could hardly discharge that responsibility if I did not attend to the needs of those families. My steward, it is true, handles most such problems but I visit and meet each family at least once a year, and often more frequently. Georgiana does as well." They walked in silence for a few moments before he resumed, "The child reminded me of Georgiana at the same age."

"How does Georgiana? I am surprised that she did not accompany you but I assume she is readying herself for the season in London. She spoke of travelling there next month."

"She is well and will, I hope, be joining me tomorrow."

"That is welcome news. I shall be pleased to meet her again." She directed another glance at him before saying, "And how long shall you both stay here in our quiet corner of Shropshire?"

Darcy realized that the moment had come to declare his intentions and only a reluctance to disturb the comfortableness of their outing made him hesitate. He could not know how Miss Farrell viewed him but obviously she had some misconceptions of his character, for which he could hardly fault her as he had hitherto made little effort to reveal it to her.

"Mr. Darcy?"

Her words recalled him from his musings. "Miss Farrell, I apologize. I was lost in thought for a few moments."

"It is of no consequence, Mr. Darcy, although it speaks poorly for my company, I believe."

"In that you are very wrong, Miss Farrell, on both counts. It is of a great deal of consequence, and I take considerable pleasure in your company."

The emphatic tone of his voice caused her to look up at him sharply, surprise written over her countenance.

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Miss Farrell, to answer your first question, I do not know the duration of our stay here. It will depend on another."

"You are being very cryptic, Mr. Darcy. Is something not well with the Goodwells? I had not detected any distress there."

Darcy shook his head with a slight smile in evidence. "My apologies, Miss Farrell. I had not meant to be mysterious. Put it down to…uncertainty." He took a deep breath, straightened his shoulders and, taking comfort that she was once again directing her gaze ahead, began, "My purpose in coming to Oswestry was exceedingly simple. I have come to ask your permission to… call on you."

Miss Farrell puzzlement grew, "But you have already called on us. We are walking today, are we not?"

"You mistake my meaning, Miss Farrell, or perhaps misunderstood my intent. I suppose I should be more forthright. I wish your consent to a courtship."

She came to an abrupt stop and stared at him in shock for several long moments before blurting, "Impossible! You…" she could not organize her thoughts sufficiently to express them coherently.

"Impossible, Miss Farrell? Why should you believe that? I concede that I have not, to this point in our acquaintance, behaved in the manner of a gentleman attempting to obtain a lady's favour; nevertheless, we have met frequently – often in Georgiana's company, I concede – and have even shared a dance. If my actions have been circumspect, it has become a habit donned to ensure that I raise no unwarranted expectations."

"I…expectations? I had none at all, I assure you."

"I realize that, Miss Farrell. That may be one of the reasons I have chosen this path."

They began to walk once more and did so in silence for several minutes, Miss Farrell clearly attempting to organize a response. Finally, she responded, her voice tentative, "I overheard you, you know. When you were speaking with Baron Harland. Sir Charles' voice does tend to carry."

Darcy frowned, trying to remember the subject on which he had spoken to Sir Charles. "I must beg your assistance, Miss Farrell. I have no recollection of that conversation."

"He was, I believe, speaking of a most inappropriate marriage made by an acquaintance of yours. There were, in his opinion, and I thought yours, great objections to the lady involved."

Suddenly Darcy recalled the occasion, "Ahh, now I remember. Sir Charles spoke of his beliefs and opinions. Not mine, I assure you! I did not wish to create an argument and, to be frank, his words reminded me of some actions of my own in the past that I greatly regret. I believe my thoughts were more on those than on Sir Charles."

She looked at him with some embarrassment, "I hope I have not offended you sir."

"Not at all, Miss Farrell. You did not know me and the circumstances were such as to lead you to an obvious conclusion."

She shook her head, "Putting that aside, I do not understand why you should wish to court me. You could have your choice of women with connections and fortune. Why me? I appreciate the honour very much, I assure you, but why? Why me?"

"Do you doubt your attractions then, Miss Farrell?"

This was said with just enough of a teasing note as to cause the lady to blush.

"No! Yes!...Oh, you must comprehend my meaning. Why would a man of your station and consequence seek out one like myself? You must admit it to be most unusual."

Darcy removed the half smile from his face. On this matter, the lady required his assurances and his confidences. He somehow doubted she would allow his suit to proceed otherwise. He was not sure how he had come to that conclusion, but to act otherwise would be a poor beginning to any attachment between them. If he could not offer her a passionate affection, he could offer respect and honesty with the hope that affection would develop in time. Hence he stated firmly, "I will not insult your intelligence and pretend that I do not understand what you wish to know. I will satisfy that wish to the best of my ability. I cannot do otherwise. My honour, and my respect for yours, demands it."

He walked in silence for a few moments, before stating firmly, "My actions are not impetuous, Miss Farrell. I must have you understand that. Such is not my nature; and when I have acted so, the results have generally been …unfortunate. When I left here in August, I believe the the idea of an attachment with you had begun to form."

"You had fixed on me then? I can hardly credit it."

"I do not believe I had actually fixed on you, in truth; rather, for the first time in my life, I began to think seriously about marrying and starting a family. As I considered the qualities I would look for in a wife, you were the first one I thought of. I was very…impressed by you. Your intelligence, appearance, manners and liveliness drew my notice. Your sincerity, thoughtfulness and kindness could only further the attraction." He noticed her slight air of disbelief and said simply, "I speak no more than the simple truth, Miss Farrell."

She considered his words, "I will not question your honour on this, Mr. Darcy. Attraction does not, necessarily, lead to an attachment; in fact, one might argue that, amongst your circle, such an event is more of a rarity than otherwise."

"Perhaps, Miss Farrell. In this case, however, and after careful consideration, I have decided to pursue the …connection."

"It must, nevertheless, appear to be so unlikely as to strain my understanding. Surely there are women within your circle who would be equally or better suited?"

Darcy nodded once more – he had not expected this meeting to be easy or comfortable, and it was not. He had resolved to share his thoughts on the matter and would do so; however, it was proving more difficult than he had expected to open himself and his reasoning to another. Not since his letter to Elizabeth Bennet, had he laid bare so much of his inner thoughts and concerns.

"After I returned to Pemberley, I had much time to contemplate my situation and, while this is all rather sudden for you, my offer is not impulsive but the product of much thought." He paused for several seconds and then shook his head. "Miss Farrell, …I am quite prepared to answer your questions and we have time in which to address them. We need not resolve all issues today."

"Why do you wish to call on me? For the purpose of…?"

"Can you not guess?"

"On such a matter, I prefer to avoid guessing, Mr. Darcy."

"Very well. I will be forthright. I wish to make you an offer of marriage should you be willing to receive it. I understand that this is…unexpected. My purpose in courting you will be to allow us both to come to a better understanding of the other and my hope is that you will accept my offer."

"There is to be no affection then? You cannot claim to have fallen in love with me and I will not have you believe I currently have any such affection for you."

"Miss Farrell, while you are not incorrect regarding my current feelings, as I have said, even in the short time I have known you, I have come to hold you in high regard. I believe my affection for you will only increase with time, and I would hope that your regard for me will grow as well. I will make an offer only if I have reason to believe it is acceptable to you."

She walked in silence for a few minutes before responding, "I am quite amazed, Mr. Darcy. I cannot claim much familiarity with gentlemen of your consequence. We see very few here in Oswestry but I would have thought, given the disparity in our stations, such a man would simply have made the offer and expected it to be accepted."

Darcy chuckled and its rueful note surprised Miss Farrell but she had not time to consider the meaning of it before he replied, "Many would, I grant you. I, however, hope to win your respect and regard and, to do so, I must allow you to understand my character." He could never reveal to her his proposal to Elizabeth Bennet or the manner in which it was made; however, it had taught him one salutary lesson – he could not presume that a woman of worth would be swayed solely by considerations of wealth and status.

They strolled in silence for quite a few minutes as Darcy allowed Miss Farrell to ponder, her eyes resolutely fixed on the path ahead. That she wished to consider the matter thoroughly did not diminish his regard for her at all. She was, he knew, a rational, intelligent creature and she would wish to consider the implications of his request as fully as possible. Finally, she raised her gaze and looked straight ahead. Oswestry could be seen some distance away – perhaps another quarter hour's walk distant.

"I will be pleased to have you call on me, Mr. Darcy."

He could not but admire the steadiness of her voice. His own acknowledgement was brief and he hoped that she could detect the sincerity behind it, for truly he was relieved that she had agreed.

"Miss Farrell, I hope that you will not believe me presumptuous but the reason that I have invited my sister to join me is to act as our chaperone. I would not have your reputation sullied in any way because of the frequency of our meeting."

"This will be no imposition for me, Mr. Darcy. So, you anticipated my acceptance then?" The arched eyebrow that accompanied this question drew a smile from Darcy.

"You remember, I hope, that I asked you not to believe me presumptuous. It was but a precautionary move on my part, Miss Farrell. I knew my sister's company would be welcomed, even if mine should prove otherwise, but I admit I hoped that your…prudence, your sensibleness, would not allow you to reject it."

"When will she arrive?"

"Tonight, I believe."

"Will I not see you before then, Mr. Darcy?"

"I had hoped to call on you tomorrow. I believe I am to play chess with your father tomorrow evening but I would wish to see you before then. When may I call?"

She thought for a minute or so. "I expect to be free most of the day. As you know I walk in the morning. Your company would not be unwelcome and we would able to talk privately. I leave at ten."

Darcy nodded, "I will call at ten then." He paused for several moments before saying, "I must speak to your father. When should I do so?"

Miss Farrell considered the question thoughtfully, "I believe you could speak to him when we return to the house. I expect him to be available."

By this time they had entered Oswestry and their progress through the village did not go unnoticed. Miss Farrell was greeted by several ladies, all of whom were obviously curious as to the gentleman who was escorting her. Some remembered Mr. Darcy from his previous visit; however, he had not been seen very frequently in the town itself and so was not known to them all. Now the proper introductions were made and, if most of the ladies were too polite to question the purpose of their walking together, one or two did not scruple to be explicit. Such questions were ignored as Miss Farrell or Darcy simply responded by observing that they needed to return to the parsonage.

When Darcy was shown into Mr. Farrell's study, he found him comfortably ensconced in an armchair and reading. Invited to sit in the facing armchair, Darcy did so but suddenly found himself hesitant to address the purpose for his visit. Mr. Farrell looked at him quizzically, "You did wish to speak to me, did you not?"

Darcy could see that his host had no inkling of his interest in his daughter; that his attention to her today presaged no more than a casual desire to share a walk. He knew that in London such an initiative on his part would have the parents of the lady involved all aflutter with anticipation. Not so in the Farrell household.

"Mr. Darcy?"

The gentle prompt and the puzzlement on Mr. Farrell's countenance finally loosened Darcy's tongue. "I apologize, sir. I…you may not be aware that I have just returned from a walk with your daughter."

"Yes, she spoke of it this morning at breakfast. I hope you enjoyed yourselves. The weather has been truly pleasant these last few days."

"Yes, I found it quite enjoyable. Actually, sir, I had a purpose in walking with Miss Farrell today. I have, you see, asked her if she would allow me to court her…and she has agreed. I am here to seek your consent to our courtship."

The book in Mr. Farrell's hands fell closed in his lap as he gazed at Darcy in stupefaction. It was almost a minute before he managed, with a strangled voice, to say, "You…wish to…court Judith?"

"Indeed I do, sir." Darcy smiled slightly. "I am quite determined on the matter."

Mr. Farrell shook his head, in bemusement rather than denial, as he began to closely examine the man before him. His study lasted for several minutes. Darcy could not detect any sign of disapproval – not that he had expected any.

"I give my consent, of course. Indeed, I cannot see how I could refuse a man of your consequence if my daughter has agreed to your offer. I must wonder at your interest, sir. Judith has rarely moved in your society, has no portion to speak of – I have set aside some monies for the care of her and her mother after my death but it is only sufficient to provide a very modest life for them both. Very modest."

"That matters not, sir. I have no need of further funds." He paused and then continued, "Should I make your daughter an offer of marriage, you may be assured that I will provide for your wife all that would be necessary."

Mr. Farrell waved that aside with a slight motion of his hand, "You intend then to offer for Judith?"

"I do….if I believe she would accept it. This courtship is to allow her to come to know me and to see whether she wishes that such an offer be made."

Mr. Farrell nodded slowly, "Very well. I will speak to my daughter later – and to my wife – I expect we will be seeing a great deal of you. How long do you expect to court Judith?"

"I am prepared to take as much time as necessary."

"I have not observed any particular affection on Judith's part, nor on yours. Have I been blind?"

"No sir, you have not. I will not claim to be in love with your daughter, but I hold her in great respect and hope that a true affection can develop between us should we marry."

Mr. Farrell pursed his lips and Darcy could see that this revelation had disturbed him slightly. His response was not unexpected.

"I will, of course, have to talk to Judith. I see no obstacles but I would not wish to see her enter a marriage with a man who does not hold her in affection."

On this note, Darcy took his leave, stopping only to inform Miss Farrell that her father had consented to the courtship but that he probably wished to speak with her.

Mrs. Farrell was astonished at the news of her daughter's courtship and quite literally dropped into the nearest chair, gazing at her daughter in stupefaction.

"Dear me! Are you sure, Judith? And your father has consented? How foolish of me! Of course he consented! Dear me, I can hardly credit it." She paused to regain her breath and and a smile crossed her face, "He is very handsome to be sure, Judith. Very handsome, indeed, and wealthy, I understand. This a great compliment to you."

Judith smiled down at her mother, "Of that I am very much aware, Mother."

"How do you feel about him, Judith? I am sure I had no idea his affections were attached. No idea at all."

"No more did I, Mother. And I am not sure his affections are attached."

Mrs. Farrell gazed at her daughter in puzzlement, "But surely, if he wishes a courtship…"

"Mr. Darcy made it quite clear that he holds me in respect and admiration. This courtship is intended to provide me with an opportunity to sketch his character and decide if I wish for him to offer for me. I suppose he will be doing likewise with me, for we know each other very little."

"Will you…. No it is too early to discuss your answer." Mrs. Farrell considered her daughter carefully. Now that she had thought about the matter, there was one thing she wished her daughter to know.

"Whatever your decision, Judith, know that your father and I will support you. Know as well that you need feel no obligation to marry. Your father has assured me that he has put enough aside for us to live in modest comfort when he passes. You need not marry to secure our future."

Judith kissed her mother's cheek. "Thank you, Mama."

Judith retired to her room earlier than usual. Her need for solitude to consider the proposition before her was imperative. Mr. Darcy's offer that afternoon had left her speechless for some minutes. She could not now recollect how long it was before she could articulate a response. Whatever she had expected - and as she considered that further, she realized she had given little heed to his purposes - the thought that he would ask for a courtship with the intention of making an offer of marriage had never presented itself. She had not believed the gentleman to have any such design, nor had he given her any reason to suspect his intentions. That he would have developed such an interest was almost beyond her comprehension; and yet, he had. And, if she was to give credit to his words, and she could think of no reason to disbelieve his assertions or his honour; his interest was sincere and rational.

Love, he had not mentioned.. Respect he had claimed and, as she thought about their acquaintance, she could remember some admiration as well. As she contemplated, she was grateful for his consideration - for consideration it was - in allowing her time to improve her understanding of him. She was most definitely flattered by his desire to court her. How could she not be? To have a man of such consequence prefer her, a woman of no fortune and limited connections, to ladies of the highest society possessed of both, was indeed a compliment of the highest order.

But what did she know of him? She believed him to be a man of honour and considerable intelligence, although her conversations with him had been limited. In this she faulted herself as she had made little effort to converse with him and, on several occasions, to her shame now, she had deliberately avoided his company. His sister held him in the greatest esteem and that, she thought, was no small recommendation. She had heard nothing but praise from the Goodwells during his stay with them; and, she thought with a smile, her mother was quite correct, he was certainly one of the most handsome men of her acquaintance.

Of her own feelings she was equally unsure. That she had misjudged him was now clear and her dislike based on a misunderstanding. She knew that she did not possess any tender feelings towards him. How could she? Their attachment was too new, too untested, too unfamiliar, to have engendered such feelings on her part. If he had considered the matter for a month or more, she had done so for a few scant hours. The important questions were simple enough. Could she develop such feelings for Mr. Darcy? And, if not, could she accept an offer of marriage based on respect and esteem alone? Could she be content in such an arrangement? She had often wished for children and a husband and, if her romantic dreams had faded with time, those aspirations had not. However, she must, she thought, put aside such concerns for the nonce. Her primary concern must be to satisfy herself as to the character of Mr. Darcy and determine whether or not she wished for an offer of marriage from him. The offer was, apparently, within her control. She would accept unreservedly Mr. Darcy's assurances on that. He would only offer if she wished him to do so. Therefore her task was simple in principle but perhaps harder to carry out. She must encourage a man noted for his reticence – she had seen him accept considerable teasing on that part of his character – to reveal himself. He had committed to answering, to the best of his ability, such questions as she might have for him and she would hold him to that promise.

Her father had not spoken to her of this as yet. She rather thought he was allowing her time to ponder on the matter. For this she was grateful. He had been, she knew, concerned for the last year or two about her future, although he had said little. She knew that he and her mother wished for her future security and happiness and they would see such a match as forwarding that object.

As she kept returning to the same concerns, she realized that her thoughts had become too jumbled and that fatigue had robbed her of coherency. She needed to sleep. Her courtship would start the next day and she would not be well served if her mind was not refreshed. She sought and found the novel she had started the night before and within a half hour it had done its duty and she was able to settle down to sleep.

Georgiana had arrived quite late the previous evening and, although showing some traces of fatigue, consented to accompany her brother on his call at ten. If Judith had harboured concerns that Georgiana might feel some disapprobation, her pleasant and sincere greeting alleviated them directly. Georgiana performed the duties of a chaperone in an exemplary manner, joining them in conversation for the first quarter hour, talking amiably with Miss Farrell until finally, slowing her pace, allowing the courting couple to move ahead until a sufficient separation between them was created to facilitate private conversation.

Now that the purpose of their meeting had been established, they both found that ease of conversation had deserted them. It took no few efforts on the part of both to overcome the difficulty, but they did so and, by the time they returned to the parsonage, their conversation, which for the most part had encompassed Darcy's reasons for marrying and why he had fixed on her, was remarkably easy.

Darcy visited later that evening to play chess with Mr. Farrell and it was readily apparent to him, as soon as he was shown into the parlour where the chess game had been set up, that his intentions towards their daughter had been made known to Mrs Farrell. Neither parent said anything directly – the manners of both too fine to allow such impropriety - but he could not help but be aware of their wondering gazes. Judith and her mother remained in the room, occupying themselves with reading and sewing, respectively. After a few brief pleasantries, Darcy and Mr. Farrell settled themselves before the chess board and began to play. As a rule, not one who wished to talk during a match, Darcy was at first a little surprised that Mr. Farrell was not of a like mind and it was some time before he understood that the questions directed his way were not simple conversation but an attempt by Mr. Farrell to sketch his character - to come to a better appreciation of the gentleman who had come to court his daughter. Once he understood the purpose, Darcy was not reluctant to be as forthcoming as possible. Playing chess was, this evening at least, the secondary objective. By the end of the evening and two chess matches – with both gentlemen claiming a victory – Darcy felt that Mr. Farrell was pleased by such disclosures as had been made.

This became the pattern for the following days. Darcy visited and walked with Miss Farrell every day, accompanied by Georgiana, and he and Georgiana called again in the evening, frequently to dine with the Farrells. The chess games continued with Mr. Farrell taking every opportunity to know Darcy better. Georgiana, Miss Farrell and her mother were usually content to talk quietly although they could also be found watching the matches and listening to the conversation between the two gentlemen. Darcy soon came to realize that Mr. Farrell, by virtue of his profession, was not only an excellent listener, capable of understanding more than what was explicitly said, but also one who, with skillful questions and observations, induced his company to reveal more than perhaps they intended. Such intensely personal matters as his sister's near elopement and his dealings with Elizabeth Bennet had, of course, not been disclosed. Nor would they be although he had no doubt that Mr. Farrell had, perhaps, developed suspicions of their existence. But little else had been spared. In the course of those discussions with her father, Darcy also came to a better appreciation of Judith, for her father could not mask his delight in his daughter and was more than willing to speak of her. Such stories as he shared only confirmed to Darcy that her understanding and intelligence were all that he had expected.

It is not to be expected that the attentions paid by a gentleman of Darcy's consequence to a local young lady – the daughter of the vicar – could occur without becoming the subject of much interest and gossip in Oswestry and its neighbourhood. Within a few days, he had become the object of much attention and, for several members of the local society, his efforts were viewed with some incredulousness. The Goodwells made Darcy aware of some of the less favourable reactions, but since Darcy appeared to give little weight to them, the Goodwells were content to do likewise. For the most part, the general opinion held that Miss Farrell was an extremely fortunate young woman to have garnered such a suitor; speculation abounded as to when he would offer and when the marriage would occur. That she might refuse such an offer had been touted, but quickly dismissed. No young woman, in her circumstances, could be so imprudent; although one or two people noted she had refused or discouraged other suitors, none of whom had been as attractive or of the consequence of Mr. Darcy of Derbyshire. Why he would court her, was a question for which none could find a ready answer, nor could they ask it of the gentleman.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 12**

 _ **Late September - Oswestry, Shropshire**_

The courtship proceeded apace and, over the days preceding the Goodwell's Harvest Ball, the relationship between Darcy and Judith Farrell continued to develop. Their conversations could not always be serious nor did they always find themselves in agreement. As she became more comfortable in his presence, her light-heartedness led her to begin teasing him and, as he seemed to enjoy her efforts, her confidence in doing so increased and her efforts, likewise. He became even more convinced of her intelligence and thoughtful consideration. Like him, she was not inclined to impetuous actions or comment, although she laughingly attributed that development to her father.

"I was, for several years, quite impressed by my own cleverness and the accuracy of my initial opinions. Whether they were about people or matters of some import." She chuckled, "My father humoured me for a short while, but finally lost patience with me and very deliberately began showing me my errors of judgement, most of which arose from a lack of thought. It was humbling process, I assure you."

Darcy could not help but chuckle, "I suspect I was much the same. It is wondrous how much smarter my father became between my fifteenth and twentieth year."

Their disagreements were not a few over those days. Most were of minor issues, a different interpretation of a character in a novel or the meaning intended by an author in a poem. Such differences, when expressed rationally and thoughtfully, could only enhance the pleasures of the conversations; however, a few were of a more substantive nature. The most serious involved the issue of the rights of women. Judith Farrell had read Mary Wollstonecraft's " _A Vindication of the Rights of Women"_ under her father's guidance, and had come to firm conclusions on the matter. Darcy had given the subject little thought, had not read that work and possessed a strong disinclination to do so because of what he considered the author's hedonistic lifestyle. His instinctual reaction of dismissing her attempts to debate the matter finally led to the following.

"Mr. Darcy, I am surprised at your opinion." Her tone was sharp and her anger barely concealed.

"Surprised? How so?"

"I had begun to think you a rarity amongst your gender. One who did not allow prejudice to bias his opinions. I see that I was mistaken."

"Madam, I fail to see how one can separate a person's behaviour from their opinions. A dissipative lifestyle is surely indicative of a want of regulation and decency of mind. And in such cases where the principles are tainted, can one repose confidence in the product of their thoughts?" What he had heard or read about Mary Wollstonecraft had raised the spectre of George Wickham in his mind but this he was reluctant to disclose, lest it require him to expose his sister's actions.

"You have not read the treatise and yet, because of her actions, you have judged it unworthy of consideration?"

"I repeat..., I fail to see the merits in debating the arguments of a moral degenerate." He paused and thought to explain further, "I have known a man of such dissolute character who was handsome, glib and able to don the most convincing demeanour reeking of charm. These ...talents, if you will, were employed in an attempt to harm my family. If such a man were to tell me the sun rose in the east, I might well disbelieve him." He attempted a small smile but a glance at her countenance removed it quickly.

"Would you not bother then to check for yourself?"

Judith Farrell's lips were clamped together and she proceeded to walk in a stony silence. His efforts to direct their conversation to less contentious topics received no response and, when they arrived back at the parsonage, both were angry. Georgiana, whose efforts as a peacemaker had failed signally, looked quite alarmed. She had not heard the substance of the argument and could not understand what had caused such a disturbing rift. By the time they had reached the parsonage, Darcy's ire was such that he prepared to take his leave with no more than the barest civilities.

"Shall I call tomorrow, Miss Farrell?" his tone was as cold and clipped as hers.

She realized that unless she answered positively, their courtship would be over. Yet, her anger had not abated, and his stubborn refusal to allow the merits of her argument, did not bode well for a future together. She had found him too agreeable otherwise, to wish to end it prematurely and yet this seemed to be too serious a matter to put aside. A thought occurred to her and she replied, "Please, wait here." And then walked quickly into the house, returning several minutes later with a book which she placed in his hands.

"I will welcome you when you have read this treatise, Mr. Darcy."

Her challenge was unmistakeable. Darcy hardly knew how to respond and was about to disclaim his intention of doing so when he looked more closely at her face. He struggled to understand what he saw there. Vestiges of anger, for a certainty, but her eyes seemed to have warmed and her tone was almost beseeching. This was, he realized, something she deemed essential, and, if such was the case, it behooved him to give it consideration - despite his distaste.

He bowed and replied in a softened tone, "Indeed, Miss Farrell, I will call on you tomorrow, although…" he weighed the book in his hands, "I cannot say when that will be."

She allowed a small smile, "It matters not, if you have read the treatise."

He bowed once and took his leave. A brief glance back revealed that Judith Farrell had remained to watch his departure. His curt nod was returned by one equally brief.

He rode away, Georgiana silent by his side, obviously allowing him the freedom of his thoughts. If her curiosity was aroused as to the title of the book he carried, it had been sternly repressed. A surreptitious glance at her revealed a mien with a distinctly humorous cast.

"What amuses you so, Georgie?"

Georgiana made no attempt to dissemble. "Your face, when Judith ordered that you read that book before you called on her again."

"You found that amusing?" Darcy made no effort to suppress his ire.

"Of course, you are much too used to ordering others and are rarely ever ordered by anyone. Your reaction was…interesting."

Darcy thought he heard her chuckle softly which he ignored as he goaded his horse into a slightly faster pace to reach the stables ahead of his sister. Dismounting, he tossed the reins to the stable hand and, not waiting for Georgiana, strode to the house, intent on returning to his rooms and privacy. If he had looked back, he would have seen his sister smiling in evident amusement. He did not, and his irritation and offended pride drove him upstairs to his chambers. After refreshing himself and tasting the small meal he had requested to be sent to his rooms, he moved to the armchair beside the window that overlooked the rose garden below. By now, he had calmed enough to begin considering, as dispassionately as possible, his disagreement with Judith Farrell. Her face and manner recalled that of Elizabeth Bennet, as she voiced her rejection of him as a man and his offer of marriage. Arrogance, conceit and a selfish disdain for others, she had named it and now he could see the evidence once more in his reaction, not only to the substance of his disagreement but also to his manner in addressing Judith. His assurance of the rightness of his opinion on this matter merited the strongest reproof. It was unconscionable of him to arrogantly assume that a man or woman, who exhibited some impropriety of behaviour, should have any opinion of theirs disregarded for that reason alone. He looked over at the book which he had carelessly thrown onto a table. Judith Farrell's intelligence was an important reason he had determined to court her; to denigrate, to disparage that same aspect, would not only be an insult to her but contrary to his very purpose. If she thought this treatise had merit, he could do no less than read it and make his own determination. Rising to pick it up, he noticed that it had been thoroughly read and, he observed after a brief leaf through the pages, by more than one person. Notes had been jotted on various pages, and in two different hand-styles. Obviously both Judith and her father had read Wollstonecraft's treatise and, from the worn aspect of the cover and pages, several times.

He put aside his irritation, poured a small glass of port and settled in his armchair to read. If he must read this work to continue to call on Judith Farrell, then read it he would. Some several hours later he had concluded his first perusal and found himself more intrigued than he would have thought possible. He had read quickly, not anticipating to find enough substance to capture his interest. In this, he now knew himself to have been in error. Further deliberations were prevented by the entrance of his man to prepare him for supper. It was not till much later that evening that he had been able to consider the book once more. His distraction had been noted, and commented upon, by all during the evening but his attempts to be more attentive were not wholly successful. It was with no little relief that he retired to his chambers and began to read the book once again - this time more slowly and with more consideration. This second reading took considerably longer, provoked much contemplation and, in several instances, the writing of a note - although he declined to deface the book itself, and wrote on a page of paper - or copying of a particularly pertinent paragraph. It was but an hour or two till dawn when he finished. He would call on Judith today, but not until the afternoon. Sleep was a priority.

When he rode to the parsonage that afternoon, he rode alone. He had asked his sister to remain behind. If he was to make an apology, he would do so in private.

Judith, upon returning to her house, had related to her father all that passed between herself and Darcy. That her father would sympathize with her she knew, but whether or not he would be disappointed, that she would place the courtship at risk, was less certain. Despite his profession, he was not unworldly, and she had no doubt that the prospect of seeing his daughter well-settled was a pleasing one. As it happened, he was more sanguine than she about Darcy's reaction.

"He will not, I quite believe, be so quick to end the courtship. From what I have observed, he is quite determined in your favour. I do not think he will be discouraged by your disagreement. Mr. Darcy does not strike me as one to condone improper behaviour; his reaction, I believe is…"

"But father, his arrogance. He refused to even consider whether Mrs. Wollstonecraft's ideas had merit."

"Well, we do not know this for a certainty, Judith. What we do know is that his distaste for her behaviour discouraged him from considering her ideas."

"Why would he do so now?"

"Out of respect for you, perhaps? He is not a gentleman who has been challenged and rarely, if ever, by a woman – particularly by one he admires – and he admires you a great deal, Judith."

"But if he should not return?"

"Then he is not worthy of you and you would have been quite unhappy if you had married him. If he cannot mend his beliefs when they are incomplete or wrong, you would not respect him, and such a marriage would be a hardship." He paused for a few moments before smiling at his daughter, "However, I do believe you to be worrying over nothing. He will return. I am certain of it."

Judith Farrell clung to her father's words that evening and the next morning, as Darcy did not visit. The weather that day was hardly propitious for visiting and her mother had been forced to postpone a call on a neighbour as a result. Could she expect Mr. Darcy to brave the rain and wind? She had almost begun to despair that he had resolved against her when she heard the sound of a carriage drawing up in front of the parsonage. Her mother bustled into the parlour where Judith was reading to announce that Mr. Darcy had arrived. Several minutes later the gentleman was shown into the parlour; her mother was, as usual, voluble in her greetings and it was a minute or two before Judith could venture to say, "I was not sure that you would call today, Mr. Darcy." She hoped that she spoke with more assurance than she felt. "The weather is not such as to allow for walking outside."

He shook his head, "I would not allow the weather to defer our conversations, Miss Farrell." He spoke with his usual reserve but the slight smile and his gaze warmed her. He had not, it appeared, resolved against her. So relieved was she, that his next words were almost missed. "I apologize. I am sure that you must have expected me to call this morning as has been my wont or, at the very least, sent a note to excuse my absence."

Mrs. Farrell was quick to disclaim, "No indeed, sir. You owe us no such courtesy. And you are here now. That is all that matters, is it not?"

"Perhaps, madam, " and he directed his gaze back to Judith, "I had cause to read an extremely interesting book last evening and I confess it was near dawn before I finished. I had good intentions to sleep but a few hours and call on you earlier than this, however, I found that I did not wake until noon."

"You found the book interesting, Mr. Darcy?" asked Judith. Her pleasure and satisfaction clearly displayed in the smile that accompanied her question.

"Very much so, Miss Farrell. To the point that I read it twice, hence the late hour at which I completed the…task set before me."

"And what think you of the matter, sir?"

"A great deal, Miss Farrell." Darcy noted Mrs. Farrell's confusion and uncertainty and turned to her.

"Your daughter, Mrs. Farrell, challenged me to read Mrs. Wollstonecraft's treatise, ' _A Vindication of the Rights of Women'_."

"Judith, you did not!"

Before she could begin to admonish her daughter – Darcy could see that Mrs. Farrell believed her daughter to have acted improperly – he interjected firmly, "I am pleased that she did so, Mrs. Farrell. Very pleased!"

His emphatic statement silenced Mrs. Farrell, although he could not believe her to be at all happy with her daughter's behaviour, if the firmness with which her lips were clamped together were any indication. He returned his attention to Judith. "It was enlightening and provoking of thought." He shook his head with a slightly rueful grimace. "Are you…do you enjoy Lord Byron's poetry, Miss Farrell?"

She was not at first sure as to the purpose of his question, which seemed to bear little on the matter being discussed, until she realized his intent. "I do, Mr. Darcy. My father acquired several of his works and made them available to me."

"I see. I am glad. My library contains all of his works and I quite enjoy reading them. I believe you take my meaning." She nodded. "How could I appreciate Lord Byron's poetry while his rather dissipative lifestyle and behaviours are contrary to what I consider proper, and, at the same time, refuse to consider Mrs. Wollstonecraft's work because of the improprieties of her life. It would not do, Miss Farrell. I could not be so hypocritical."

Ignoring her mother, whom she knew to disapprove strongly of Mrs. Wollstonecraft, Judith found herself nodding once more. Eager to explore the matter more fully she asked teasingly, "And did you find yourself in agreement with Mrs. Wollstonecraft, sir?"

Darcy smiled and considered his answer carefully for several moments before replying calmly, "As with any such work, I find myself conflicted. There is much with which I find myself in sympathy, and yet other points with which I stand in disagreement. I dare say I need to read it several more times and consider these points more thoroughly and separately."

"True. One cannot, on the brief acquaintance of an evening's perusal of such a work, expect to understand all of the matters being explored. Was there any particular point that captured your attention, Mr. Darcy?"

"Well, several, in fact, Miss Farrell. The matter of….."

The conversation that ensued provided considerable enjoyment to them both and, if she could have overheard and understood, some distress to Mrs. Farrell; however, that good lady was perforce, by her duties, to be much in and out of the room during Darcy's visit. When she did stay, she settled sufficient distance from them as to allow a degree of privacy to them, and to her, a happy ignorance of their discussion.

Judith found the discussion most illuminating. She and Darcy had discussed many different topics and exposed their different opinions on more than one occasion; never, however, had the differences been on as substantive a topic. Her concerns that he would not respect her opinions, if they differed from his own, were allayed and, to her satisfaction, she found that he was not disinclined to have his opinion on a matter more substantive than the plot of a novel, challenged and changed if her arguments were rationally and thoughtfully presented. She could influence him and, given the strength of his character, that was no small consideration. Moreover, even when they disagreed strongly on some point, she could discern no disparagement by him of her opinion. By the time he took his departure, she had resolved that when he asked, for she was now sure he would do so, his offer would be accepted. There were a few matters that she wished to discuss with him but she could not believe they would change her mind.

The next day saw him arrive, with Georgiana, to walk although rain from the previous day had left the roads muddy and the damage to her petticoats was likely to be severe.

"I fear that my petticoats will be six inches deep in mud when we return, Mr. Darcy." She teased.

He smiled briefly, "I shall not notice, Miss Farrell, I assure you."

Georgiana laughed, "My brother is not much concerned about such matters, Judith..." for the two young ladies had progressed to calling each other by their Christian names. "And he has, on more than one occasion, returned to Pemberley, after riding for his pleasure, covered in mud."

They began their walk and the conversation, as they moved through the streets of Oswestry, was inconsequential. Judith had two main questions she wished to raise but privacy, more than could be availed of in the village, was needed. After a quarter hour, they reach the outskirts of Oswestry and Judith raised her first concern. Georgiana remained on the other side of Darcy but her presence did not inhibit Judith. In fact, she rather thought her friend might prove useful – her reactions might differ from her brother's and be worth exploring - should she be amenable to disclosing them.

"Mr. Darcy, we have not spoken of this before. I am not unaware of your consequence, your station in life. It could hardly be otherwise, as several of my acquaintances have been….eager to point out the differences between us." The asperity of her statement drew a small smile from Darcy and he was about to respond when she waved it off.

"Do not distress yourself on my behalf, Mr. Darcy. Such…observations matter little to me. Why should I give consequence to the opinions of those wholly unrelated to me? I assume that you have already considered such matters and, if problems exist, are prepared to face them. Nevertheless, for my own comfort, I wish to know whether I am likely to face disapprobation from your relatives and acquaintances should we marry."

Before Darcy could reply, Georgiana began to laugh. Judith looked at her in surprise and Georgiana controlled her amusement and said, "I must apologize, Judith. I was just imagining our Aunt Catherine's face and her response! Oh dear, she will be most seriously displeased!" and Georgiana began to chuckle once more.

Judith looked over at Darcy who was rolling his eyes. Finally noticing her gaze, he rejoined, "My sister's amusement notwithstanding, I fear she has the right of it. My aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh, is my mother's sister and sister to the Earl of Matlock. My aunt has long wished for me to marry her daughter – which neither of us has ever wanted – and was not rightly pleased when I informed her several months ago that such an event would never take place. I doubt she has surrendered her wishes on the matter; however, I believe that any woman I choose to marry, unless she was a princess of the realm, would face equal disapproval from my aunt. Her opinion matters not, Miss Farrell."

"I see….and your other relatives and acquaintances, sir?"

He was thoughtful and both Georgiana and Judith allowed him the time to form his thoughts. Finally he spoke, "The Fitzwilliams – my mother's family – will take their direction from the Earl. He will not, I am afraid, be greatly pleased. I suspect he anticipates that my bride will bring wealth and connections to the family. He married off his own children with such in mind. Only his second son, Colonel Fitzwilliam, is unmarried and I suspect will remain so, until he can find a wife with a suitable dowry. However, I do believe Richard – the Colonel – will marry as he chooses and not at his father's direction."

"So I may expect the Earl to oppose the marriage."

"No. He will be unhappy but I am my own man and not beholden to him in any fashion other than the respect due to our familial relationship. He will not hesitate to express his displeasure to me in private, but he is also a practical man and will not wish to cause an estrangement between the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families. Certainly, he will not wish for any disagreement to be made public. To you, he will be polite and civil, and he will support the marriage. I believe that you will eventually win him over to appreciate the marriage. My Aunt, Countess Matlock, will follow his direction, as will the other members of his family."

"And the Darcy family?"

"I am the head of the Darcy family. They will take their direction from me."

Georgiana thought to interject at this point to soften, if possible, the firmness of her brother's response. She would not wish him to appear as arrogant as his words suggested. "We are not terribly close to our Darcy relatives, Judith. My father had only a single sister and she has but two children – a daughter and a son who are both slightly our elder. We see little of them."

"What were they like?"

Georgiana looked at her brother, "I believe William could speak to that better than I, for I have not seen them for five years or more."

Darcy considered the question gravely, "My memories of the family is that they are generally quite….amiable. My Uncle Charlton has a modest estate in Devonshire. They do not travel much and we have, for no reason that I can discern, had little intercourse with them. I anticipate no problems from them."

Judith walked in silence as she pondered what she had been told. It was not a comfortable feeling that she would face the disapprobation of some of his relatives but, if he decided to proceed despite their opinions, she could only trust his honour and protection. That left the second issue she had been pondering.

"Will you…where do you expect to live most of the time? London? Pemberley?"

"To some extent that will depend upon the wishes of my wife. At present I spend almost equal amounts of time in London and Pemberley. It would not be difficult for me to spend more time at Pemberley. It is my home, after all. I cannot see spending less than half the year there just to handle estate matters. I like to spend some time in London – to enjoy the theatre, arts and the company of a few friends. But two or three months would satisfy my wishes in that regard."

Judith did not try to hide her smile at his response. Truly, she could not see herself living in London for an extended period. Before she could think on it further, Georgiana ventured to say, "We have, this past year, spent more time in London than is our wont. This was my first season, and my Aunt Matlock wished to ensure that I was brought out properly. Brother and I have talked little about this as yet, but I expect I will return for another month this fall after I leave here, and also a month or so in the spring. I find the demands of a season too wearing to be overly enjoyable."

Judith encouraged the conversation to meander into a discussion of the season and the events that Georgiana had experienced. Judith shared her own experiences which, despite her moving in a slightly less exalted circle than Georgiana, were more similar than otherwise. While she attended some balls, they were not held by members of the first circles nor was she allowed int Almack's; however, the theatre and opera were there for the enjoyment of both young women. It was a light-hearted conversation, replete with stories and humorous anecdotes that consumed the remainder of their walk. After they had returned to the parsonage, Darcy assisted his sister to mount and then, taking Judith's hand, led her a short distance away before turning to face her.

"The Goodwells have accepted an invitation to dine this evening and Georgiana and I must accompany them; thus I cannot call on you tonight. However, I will call tomorrow morning and I hope that we can enjoy a private conversation as we take our walk. Would that be agreeable to you, Miss Farrell?"

Judith realized that he planned to offer her marriage tomorrow morning. Their conversation today must have been sufficient for him to believe her willing to accept an offer. She had much to think on but that could await her response to his immediate question. She chose her words carefully as she responded.

"I would find that most enjoyable, Mr. Darcy."

He bowed, smiled briefly, mounted his horse and, after a backwards glance at her, rode off with his sister. Georgiana, who had not been insensible to the possible purpose of the few private words her brother had shared with her friend, also turned to smile at Judith before riding off.

Judith watched until they were lost from sight before entering her home. While she had much to think on, her mother would not allow her the time to do so as the demands of the parish took precedence over her private concerns. It was not till late in the evening that she found the solitude in her room to consider the answer she would provide Darcy. As was her habit when considering matters of much import, she assigned her thoughts to her journal. The act of writing appeared to enforce a degree of logic and order upon her thoughts. She leaned back into her chair and read, once more, what she had written. It was, she realized, not as concise as she might wish but several portions struck her with some force.

"… _and he will, I am now convinced, make his offer tomorrow. And I will accept! I know that many would argue that to reject it would be imprudent in the extreme and yet I could do nothing else if I believed my future with him would be unpleasant or unhappy. Some might even claim that such a prudent marriage offer cannot be spurned under any circumstances. They would point to my prospects and suggest that I could never expect an offer that is even a tenth as good as Mr. Darcy's._

 _All of this is unimportant for prudence is not the sole reason for me to accept his offer.I do feel a strong affection for William. I have seen nothing in his character, or the reports I have of him, to suggest the possibility that he is hiding some serious defect that would make a marriage unwise. I cannot believe him to be anything but a responsible and caring husband and a father to our children. It speaks well of him that he accepted the responsibility of raising a sister who was but ten at the time and did so with such credible results. Such a man would hardly be other than an excellent father. That he wants a family has already been vouchsafed to me and I wish for the same. He is, I believe, as a fine and honourable man as may exist; one that I have come to hold in considerable respect and admiration. I still do not feel myself to be in love with him – I am not such a one as to lose my heart in a matter of days – but I do possess affection for him and I believe I could come to love him._

 _I must believe Mr. Darcy's affections are much like my own – I have discerned no signs of a strong attraction. I cannot believe him to be in love with me. If his feelings are otherwise, I am convinced he will say as much tomorrow, but I do not expect that he will. I have come to respect his honesty a great deal and such protestations, if made, will be sincere. If he inquires into my own feelings, I will be honest with him. At the risk of his withdrawing his offer, I can do no less. My honour demands no less from me._

 _I found my thoughts drifting this afternoon. I am sure Mama was quite perplexed at my inattention but I believe she placed the wrong interpretation on my woolly-mindness and flushes. Perhaps that is just as well! If she had known that I was thinking of the intimacies of marriage, of being taken to his bed, she would have been quite displeased with me as she has always been very proper when such matters are raised. Yet surely it is natural? I am not a mindless child of seventeen. I have never known a man's touch but those few, infrequent touches that he has afforded me have been pleasant and, dare I say, warming. I know little of the particulars of marital intimacies despite living in the country. I have learned enough, however, to believe I have nothing to fear and, if some reports are to be believed, much to anticipate with pleasure. The thought of sharing them with Mr. Darcy is…interesting. He is a handsome man and I have seen nothing in his behaviour to lead me to think that he would treat me unkindly._

 _I am, I fear, a poor creature. My thoughts ramble through my mind. I pride myself on being rational and yet, when I read my words, I have to wonder who has written them. I shall sleep. I shall sleep! I must sleep! I am determined."_

She closed her journal and took up the novel she had been reading in the hopes that it would distract her thoughts sufficiently as to allow her to sleep. In this the novel proved its worth as a quarter hour later found her asleep, to be woken some hours later by the light from her window. Tomorrow was today and Mr. Darcy was to come and her new future lay before her.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter 13

 _ **Late September-Early October, 1814 - Oswestry, Shropshire**_

"Before I give you my answer, Mr. Darcy, I feel…obligated to confess something to you and allow you to withdraw, should you wish to do so."

Darcy nodded his assent and awaited her 'confession'. What it might be, he could not fathom. He could think of nothing that would cause him to withdraw other than she had an extreme dislike of him, and that he considered unlikely. He would have discerned such a feeling by now, should it exist.

"In your offer, Mr. Darcy, you spoke of many things and quite warmly of respect and esteem. I did not fail to notice that you spoke not of love; and, in truth, I had not expected that you would. I cannot admit of such feelings myself. There has been, I believe, too little time for love to grow. I do feel an affection for you. Whether it is the equal of yours, I cannot know. But the feeling has grown over our courtship and I will concede that I believe it could well grow much stronger. That is my concern, sir. I…"

"That is the substance of your concern, Miss Farrell?" he interrupted.

Judith could see a trace of amusement as he spoke. "Indeed, sir. That is all!"

"Then I would have your answer, Miss Farrell. For I too have hopes that those affections we share will grow and develop; and I am not at all disposed to withdraw my offer."

"Then I accept your offer of marriage with pleasure, Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Farrell...Judith." His tones were warm and his smile equally so. "I am happy...very happy that you have bestowed your hand to me. You may be assured of one thing, Judith, and that is you shall never have cause to distrust my affection and respect for you in the days ahead." He took possession of her hands and raised both to his lips.

She flushed, not insensible to the warmth of his words and actions, and murmured, "I have no doubt, Mr. Darcy. I am quite convinced of your determination and resolve."

"Will you not call me William, from this time forward….Judith, at least when we are alone or amongst family?"

She nodded, raised her eyes to his face and realized that she had never seen such a look of pleasure on his countenance. The warmth of her reaction surprised her and she wondered, for the first time in his company, what it would be like to have him kiss her. The thought caused her to flush and she abruptly began to walk once more, her hand resting on his arm.

"I shall speak to your father when we return."

"Yes, I dare say he is expecting your visit. He thinks very well of you and will be pleased at our marrying. I know he has worried for my future."

"I like your parents quite well. If I can assure them both as to your security and that of your family, I am pleased to do so."

Judith walked quietly contemplating the future. Her musings the night before had raised one matter that she knew needed to be addressed quickly.

"Have you given thought to where we will marry?"

"I have and I hope I am not being too precipitous but I expected we would marry here at Oswestry."

"That would please me although it might prove difficult for your family to attend."

"That is as it may be." He paused before continuing, "You did not ask my thoughts on when we would marry."

"I thought you and my father would decide that."

"Perhaps we may but I would have your wishes considered."

Judith was pleased that he thought to include her but wondered at his own preferences. She rather thought he would not wish for a long engagement. "How soon would you wish to marry, Mr. ….William?"

"Tomorrow, if possible." Her gasp was greeted by a smile. "Of course, I realize that is impossible. But I would have the banns read immediately and the marriage to follow shortly thereafter. I have been much away from Pemberley this year and admit a desire to return there with you as its Mistress as soon as possible."

"About three weeks, then?" Judith realized she should have anticipated his wish to marry quickly once she accepted him; she suspected that most men wished to bed their wives as soon as possible. A quick glance at her betrothed suggested to her that the thought was not unpleasant to him and, as she walked beside him, it occurred to her that the thought was not unpleasant to her either.

Darcy waited in silence for her further response. Although she appeared to be initially hesitant to marry so quickly, he was pleasantly surprised to hear her say, "I think that is an excellent idea."

"It will not, I believe, allow much time for you to accumulate your wedding clothes, …Judith." He savoured her name, its taste becoming more pleasant each time it was used. "But that can be easily corrected after we marry."

"Surely, I will not need all that much?"

"Georgiana and Mrs. Goodwell can advise you better than I on that matter; however, I am sure that your wardrobe will have to be expanded. I am not one inclined to a lot of entertaining but there are some demands that must be met. As well, you will wish to call on the ladies in the neighbourhood of Pemberley."

He paused and considered the matter further. Her father's ability to provide for his daughter could well be limited and he would not wish to impose a hardship on the family. "I will speak to your father on this matter. I am sure we can reach a result acceptable to us all."

Judith glanced at him, sure that 'an acceptable result' would see him provide the necessary funds; however, that was a matter for her father to decide. As she was considering the changes likely to occur, Darcy interrupted her thoughts.

"We are to attend the Harvest Ball tomorrow night, are we not?" and, receiving her assent, continued, "In that case, I wish to secure the first, the supper and the last dance with you." He grinned charmingly, "I would wish for all your dances but that would not be greeted with much approval, I fear."

She laughed, "No indeed. Such censure as we would face would be severe. But your request is one that I most gladly accept." She looked up at him, "Shall we announce our engagement at the Ball?"

"I believe my friends would be delighted if we did so; but I must allow your father to decide. That honour is his."

Darcy espied a tall chestnut tree a small distance off the path just ahead and led Judith to stand beneath it, where they were slightly hidden under the branches. Turning her to face him he held one of her hands and with the other cupped her face.

"I intend to kiss you," he murmured, "unless you tell me to stop."

He waited for a moment or two to allow her to respond and when she did naught but close her eyes, he leant down and brushed her lips with his own. Discerning no reluctance on her part, he returned and this time drawing her face toward him and kissing her more strongly. It seemed to him that she welcomed the intimacy and moving his lips over hers he tasted hers with his tongue. He felt her surprise but she did not withdraw; he deepened the kiss and gradually her lips relaxed and he felt her respond. He drew her body closer to his own and felt her pressing against him. Her fingers had grasped his coat and unknowingly she had pulled herself more firmly against him. The kiss lasted until both felt the need to breathe and parted. Darcy smiled at Judith's flush and drew his thumb across her lips.

"I think that the next three weeks will test my resolve greatly. You are a very desirable woman, Judith Farrell, and we should return lest I forget I am a gentleman"

Judith considered him gravely for a few seconds, her countenance flushed and her breathing still not under her control. Then she smiled, "I expect you are correct, …William, although I would not wish for you to be too gentlemanly if it were to deprive me of such pleasures."

"I shall not, my dear, suspend any pleasure of yours," laughed Darcy as they began to stroll back to the Parsonage.

It was the last set of the evening and Darcy could not remember a ball that had provided more pleasure. The announcement of their engagement had been made; a few of those who extended their congratulations were pleased to learn of Miss Farrell's good fortune and obviously wished her well. Others were quite friendly although insincere in their congratulations; but, as Judith whispered afterwards, she would gladly settle for civility. His three dances with his betrothed were the most pleasant of the evening. He did his duty and danced with a few others but none were as comfortable and enjoyable as those with Judith. On the ballroom floor, they were well matched, able to execute the most complicated patterns easily and enjoy both conversation and moments of silence in equal measure. He hoped that such compatibility presaged well for their future together.

"Have you enjoyed this ball, Miss Farrell?"

"Very much, Mr. Darcy, but then I usually enjoy such occasions."

"As you know I am not fond of such events in general but I have found that this evening has been quite tolerable."

"Such warm words of praise, Mr. Darcy. I am amazed." Her teasing elicited a smile from her partner.

"With such a partner, how could I not enjoy myself?"

She smiled. She knew that her gown was well-worn and certainly not of the latest fashion. Her father could not afford to dress to that state, nor would she have asked it of him. She had reworked her dress as best as possible but knew that she looked, in contrast to Georgiana Darcy, quite poorly dressed. However, it had not seemed to bother Mr. Darcy at all, and his expression, when he greeted her at the door, was warm and his expressions of admiration sincere. He had released her to dance with others and, when not dancing himself, she had been conscious of his eyes following her as she danced. She felt that, if he could not call his affections 'love', she would be quite pleased with them in any event. For herself, she rather thought that her feelings were becoming stronger, the more she was in his company. Earlier in the evening they had managed to slip away to the balcony for a few minutes and a stolen kiss but their privacy was too soon invaded by another couple and they could only converse quietly until the start of the next set which they were to dance with other partners. Although she had enjoyed those dances, she had delighted in being partnered with Darcy; his company, even when silent, was pleasing and boded well for their future.

The days before the wedding passed more quickly than either Judith or Darcy expected. Darcy had written to his relatives to apprise them of his wedding but only his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam, was willing to attend. Darcy received a letter from his Aunt Catherine, as abusive towards Judith as expected. It was consigned to the fire, as were all subsequent letters from her ladyship. His uncle and aunt, the Earl and Countess of Matlock, declined to attend; however, their letter acknowledging the marriage, while expressing disappointment that he had not made a more splendid match, contained neither disapprobation nor an unwillingness to accept his wife in the future. Judith had written her relatives and from her uncle in London received the warmest possible congratulations, but unfortunately, he and his wife could not spare the time to travel so far and expressed the hope that Judith and her husband would visit when next in town. Her grandfather, Baron _ had also written expressing his approval and also his regrets that he could not attend.

Darcy and Judith had little time together during this period. That her parents wished to be certain that all the proprieties were met was understandable; and, given the circumstances, Darcy was equally eager to ensure that no possible censure of Miss Farrell would arise. That many would consider her to be a fortune-hunter, could hardly be denied. There was no way to disprove such conjectures, erroneous though they were. He would allow for no suggestion that she had tricked him into marriage by some form of compromise.

Their plans to attend the Pemberley Harvest Festival were put off as neither felt that the sacrifice of the best part of a week to be desirable at this time. Darcy had matters of business to occupy his time during those weeks – the settlement papers alone absorbed much effort – and Judith was heard to state that she wished never to see the inside of another seamstress room or a millinery shop for at least a year. Mr. Farrell insisted that Judith participate in the review of the Settlement Agreement, for, as he stated, "To no one is this of greater import. This is your protection for the future, Judith, and you must be aware of the particulars."

Darcy did not disagree and spent several hours with Mr. Farrell and Judith reviewing the various aspects of the agreement. Judith was amazed and concerned as to the details, most of which were readily understandable and accepted. However a few items shocked her.

"I do not understand how you can afford to settle twenty thousand pounds on me, William. I do not wish to be a financial burden."

"It is no burden, I assure you, Judith. I can well afford the cost and the peace of mind that I will obtain, knowing that you are provided for after my death, is…well, you must allow me to do this. I will accept nothing less."

Judith just shook her head. Twenty thousand pounds was an immense sum from her perspective and she could not fully grasp the implication. In the event of her husband's death, not only would she have the use of the Pemberley Dower House, she could live in town at Darcy House and be possessed of an income that hitherto she had never imagined. Although it seemed improbable at the moment, she wondered if she could become accustomed to such wealth. She was about to make an observation about the size of her allowance but hesitated to do so. Darcy noticed her reluctance and pressed her to explain. Finally she confessed.

"The size of my spending allowance leaves me…breathless, to be sure. I cannot envision spending so much."

Darcy frowned, "The amount is commensurate with our station, Judith. You will have to purchase gowns and other items. I would not have you come to me for money every time a new gown is required or a book is to be purchased." He cleared his throat, "As well, this amount is, as I said, appropriate to our station and I would not have anyone question my respect and esteem for you."

Judith nodded slowly as she considered his affirmation - for such it was. He was saying, to one and all, that he stood behind and supported his wife and would demand society's respect for her.

Colonel Fitzwilliam arrived two days before the ceremony to meet Miss Farrell for the first time and admitted quite freely to Darcy, some hours after meeting her, that she impressed him a great deal. What the Colonel did not admit of was the sense of familiarity that accompanied that introduction. It was many years before he recognized the resemblances between Miss Judith Farrell and Miss Elizabeth Bennet. Perhaps it is just as well that he was oblivious then to the similarities as it is not unreasonable to suspect that Darcy, unaware of them as he was, would have been quite unhappy to have them noted.

 _ **Late October, 1814 – Oswestry, Shropshire**_

The wedding day arrived, the ceremony performed and the happy couple departed for Pemberley following a delightful wedding breakfast hosted by the Goodwells. Georgiana and Colonel Fitzwilliam made their way to town where she was to partake of the short season and answer those many questions regarding her brother's unexpected wedding; a task which her brother willingly and cheerfully assigned to her.

"For," he said, "you can now be assured of an easy topic of conversation and the attention of everyone."

Georgiana regarded her brother with a baleful look, "If I were one to enjoy such attention, I would thank you, my dear brother; however, as I do not, I will now have to give some thought as to an appropriate retribution."

Colonel Fitzwilliam slapped Darcy on the back, "My congratulations, Darcy." And turning to Judith smiled saying, "and my condolences, Mrs. Darcy. I fear you will have your hands full with my dour cousin."

"He is not so dour as all that, Colonel. I have found him most amiable."

Darcy called an end to the civilities, waited while his wife took a last farewell of her parents, said his own to the Goodwells and Farrells and assisted Judith into the carriage which then pulled away from Derwydd Hall. Its occupants settled down into the awkward silence that encompasses a newly married couple allowed, by the dictates of proper society, to travel together for the first time without the encumbrance of a chaperone. Judith Darcy finally, after a quarter hour of uneasy silence, spoke.

"I have been so wrapped in details of the wedding that I have failed to learn where we are to spend the night. Surely we cannot reach Pemberley before dark?"

"No indeed, Mrs. Darcy." She noticed that he was quite happy to call her so whenever the opportunity presented; and she was not unhappy to have it said. He continued, "We shall stop at the Red Dragon Inn just outside Stoke-on-Trent. It is a small place but the rooms are excellent and the cook actually worked at Pemberley for a few years. I was sorry to see her leave but she and her husband wished to establish themselves at the Inn and I helped them with its purchase. We shall arrive at Pemberley on the morrow."

Conversation languished as both were hesitant to broach the topic that consumed their thoughts, leaving little room for others. All too soon a lack of sleep the night before the wedding and the rocking motion of the carriage lulled first Judith into a light sleep and then Darcy himself. Before he allowed himself to relax, he did draw the slumbering form of his wife into a close embrace, resting his back against the side of the carriage, his feet on the opposing seat and allowing her head to lie on his chest. In this position they remained until the carriage stopped for the first change of horses. Judith was quite disconcerted to find herself enclosed in the arms of her husband but her discomposure lasted no longer than it took to realize that she quite enjoyed the experience. She could see by the pleased look on his face that her husband was equally content.

A half hour later, refreshed and having partaken of a light meal, found them once more on the road. The remainder of the journey to reach their stop in Stoke-on-Trent went as such trips usually do. Time was spent reading, admiring the scenery and mostly talking. They had much to learn, each of the other, and the brevity of their courtship and engagement had left them with a desire to come to a better understanding. When they arrived at the Inn, Judith saw that it was a relatively small establishment but was oddly quieter than she would have expected. When she made this observation to Darcy, he smiled and murmured that he had rented the establishment for the evening. They were to be the sole customers. His ability to do so brought home to her once again the difference in their respective lives to this point. She was quite unused to making such expenditures but suspected that with familiarity, it would become easy to do so.

Their welcome by the innkeeper was everything that was pleasant and he obviously was on good terms with Darcy. His pleasure at being introduced to Mrs. Darcy was immense and the sincerity of his congratulations could not be doubted. Within minutes they were ensconced in their rooms and within the half hour, sufficient hot water was available for both their baths and a warm meal prepared. Neither of them was much inclined to have an interest in the meal before them and Darcy's suggestion that they remove to the bedchamber was accepted readily by Judith. There they came together, for the first time, as man and wife. Darcy fell asleep with Judith encompassed in his arms both satiated and content.

Their journey to Pemberley went much as the day before. Sleep appeared to be necessary for both and, shortly after they began the trip, they settled into the comfortable – or as comfortable as could be arranged – position adopted the previous day and slept. Judith woke before her husband and the position which only yesterday she had found embarrassing, now felt comforting.

In little time her thoughts were almost at once centred on her wedding night. " _Whatever I may have expected,"_ she thought, " _the reality was so very much different."_

Even now she could not encompass all that happened. She would not wish to embarrass herself or her husband by speaking to him of those intimacies they had shared the past night; so they must remain the particular province of herself alone. If she was not unfamiliar with the general nature of such intimacies, nothing she thought she knew allowed for the amount of pleasure that her husband's ministrations afforded her. She had been given to expect pain and some discomfort and her expectations were not disappointed; however, she now realized that her own imagination had magnified the matter greatly and that, in reality, the pain and discomfort was very minor. She had hoped for some pleasure and and was most agreeably surprised at how well that wish had been gratified. William's touches and caresses had quite overset her composure. She had not believed herself capable of feeling such pleasure nor of making the sounds that had been elicited from her. She was quite embarrassed. The pain did happen when he first began to enter her but he was kind and gentle and slow. The feel of his body coupled with her own was quite beyond the poor power of her thoughts and words to conjure up. She knew he took his pleasure, the warm wetness that spread inside her would have told as much if he had not spoken it aloud - and that pleased her greatly. She now did not fear that she would lose his interest. After they refreshed themselves – she had been embarrassed at the signs of bleeding which signalled that she was truly his wife – they slept for several hours. " _Perhaps_ ,"she thought, " _we, neither of us, is used to sleeping with another_." She had found herself being awakened during the night and welcoming her husband's attentions once more. There was only a slight discomfort and of a short duration. To feel him moving within her and realizing that her body was responding with similar movements afforded such pleasure that when she felt him take his, she was reluctant to release him from her arms but wished to hold him closer. She had this sudden rush of longing for a child and could hope it would not take long. Unfortunately, she soon discovered that her husband was not a small man and his weight, as careful as he was, was considerable, and she was forced to relinquish him to lie beside her. She chuckled quietly to herself, "I fear that if he had wanted to talk, he was quite incapable of doing so and was, I believe, asleep in minutes."

They had woken the next morning later than planned and, after refreshing themselves, had a light breakfast. Judith, in an excess of high spirits began teasing Darcy quite unmercifully. He, however, had his revenge, finally carrying her to their bed and, as he so gracefully put it, had his way with her once more. Judith confessed to herself that she did not expend much effort to resist his activities and doubted she had the presence of mind to do so in any event. Needless to say, their departure for Pemberley was delayed for several hours. Judith could not discern that Darcy was perturbed by the matter and knew she gave it little thought at all.

She supposed she should be concerned that her husband was so practiced at marital intimacies as to provide such pleasure to his wife. It was obvious that he was no stranger to such activities and she was, for a brief moment, inclined to question how he came by such knowledge; but, as it was gained prior to her acquaintance with him, she resolved that it would be both improper and unnecessary to speak of it with him. She believed in his innate goodness and honour to know that he would respect his vows in all particulars; and, she thought, it was not as though she could object to his exercise of such knowledge when it provided so much enjoyment to her. With such happy musings she drifted off to sleep and did not wake until the first change of horses. When they resumed their travel, neither was inclined to sleep and conversation flowed easily between them for quite a while.

Judith watched, as they drove along, for the first appearance of Pemberley Woods with some perturbation; and, when at length they turned in at the lodge, her spirits were in a high flutter. The park was very large, and contained great variety of ground. They entered it in one of its lowest points, and drove for some time through a beautiful wood, stretching over a wide extent. They had not travelled far from the lodge when Darcy realized Judith was becoming increasingly agitated and inquired as to the cause. She was, at first, reluctant to admit as to the reason but finally confessed it all.

"You will think me very silly, I am sure."

"My dearest Judith, silly is the very last word I would use to describe you. What is troubling you so?"

"Pemberley is a very grand place, is it not? Much larger than Derwydd Hall?"

"Yes, to both questions." Darcy was puzzled. "I assume that the Goodwells have spoken of it."

"Indeed, and with considerable admiration. I…you must know that I have no experience in managing a house of such importance. I fear I will disappoint you."

Darcy was quick to speak his assurances, "I have every confidence in you, Judith. Your lack of experience will not be a problem. You are too intelligent and hard working to not master all that is required. Besides…."

He was silent for some moments and Judith became impatient. He was contemplating something only he could see and her curiosity finally won out.

"Besides?"

"Ah, I apologize. I was just remembering…"

Before he could lapse once more into his thoughts, she nudged him.

"And?"

He smiled, "I became Master of Pemberley on my father's death some ten years past. His death was unexpected and, while he had given me some instruction on how to manage the estate, much of my time was spent at Cambridge. I was woefully unprepared to take on the duties of a Master."

He glanced at her and saw her look of understanding. "I was fortunate, very fortunate, to have an experienced steward to guide me for the first few months. To my dismay, however, he died some six months after my father and his replacement was not wholly trained. We stumbled quite often those first few years but we rarely made the same mistake twice. I made mistakes, Judith, but I had no choice but to press on. It was my great, good luck that none of my mistakes were such as to damage Pemberley to any extent." He paused to rub his forehead.

"It was…. I was, blessed to have Mrs. Reynolds as my Housekeeper and Mr. Harris as the Butler. Running of Pemberley House was in good and experienced hands which allowed me to concentrate on the estate and my tenants. Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Harris have run Pemberley House with little guidance from me for ten years. They could do so indefinitely, should you choose to allow them to do so."

"I had not thought to be idle, William. I wish to help. I had thought they would wish my direction."

"And they probably will, Judith. I simply meant to assure you that you will have help in learning those duties and that while errors are likely, no one will think less of you for them. The communications I have received from Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Harris simply express their pleasure that I am bring a Mistress to Pemberley."

He paused for a minute or so, "As well, I would have you do those things which afford you the greatest pleasure. One of the projects that I have considered since I met you was to expand the day schools in Lambton and Kympton to provide girls with an education. I have not the time to devote to it and wondered if you might take it on?"

Judith smiled, "Has Mrs. Wollstonecraft influenced your thinking so soon?"

"Possibly, Mrs. Darcy, quite possibly." He embraced her quickly, "Although I like to think that I would have come to the thought myself…."

"Eventually?"

"Indeed."

She allowed her thoughts to drift, "Shall we be expected to entertain?"

"I think not – at least, not for several weeks – perhaps a month. We may receive some invitations and a few callers, but I hope that most of our neighbours will allow us some time together before intruding."

"I have never been hostess for a dinner of any size."

He responded to the uncertainty he heard in her voice, "We will start small – perhaps only two or three couples – and Mrs. Reynolds is quite knowledgeable. Do not think we will be entertaining extensively. I am known as a reticent man and somewhat unsociable. I suspect that any effort on your part will be greeted by our neighbours with great pleasure."

Judith's mind was now too full for conversation, but she saw and admired every remarkable spot and point of view. They gradually ascended for half a mile, and then found themselves at the top of a considerable eminence, where the wood ceased, and the eye was instantly caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of a valley, into which the road, with some abruptness, wound. It was a large, handsome, stone building, standing well on rising ground, and backed by a ridge of high woody hills; and in front, a stream of some natural importance was swelled into a greater one, but without any artificial appearance. Its banks were neither formal, nor falsely adorned. Judith was delighted. She had never seen a place for which nature had done more, or where natural beauty had been so little counteracted by an awkward taste. She was warm in her admiration; and at that moment she knew that to be mistress of Pemberley was something!

They descended the hill, crossed the bridge, and drove to the door; and, while examining the nearer aspect of the house, all her apprehensions of what was facing her returned, for awaiting her were scores of servants, three of whom stepped forward to greet her and her husband. The requisite introductions were made to the the housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, a respectable-looking, elderly woman, much less fine, and more civil, than she had any notion of finding in such an establishment; the butler, Mr. Harris, a solid, elderly man; and the steward, Mr. Grant, a man a few years older than her husband with a friendly, cheerful countenance. Asked to speak a few words to the assembled staff, Judith was sure that she did so although she could never remember what she said. That it was received well, she had to believe since everyone smiled and bowed or curtsied as appropriate. Darcy then led her inside and her life as Mrs. Darcy, Mistress of Pemberley, truly began.


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 14

 _ **November-December 1814 – Oaksley Manor, Wiltshire**_

 _Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent_

 _November 12, 1814_

 _Dear Lizzie,_

 _I know I sent you a letter but a short time ago. Do not, however, consider yourself to be in debt to me for more than one letter. I am writing you now only to relay such news as has put her ladyship and, consequently, my husband into the most awful of moods. It was my unfortunate circumstance to have been visiting with Miss de Bourgh when Lady Catherine received a post from her nephew, Mr. Darcy._

 _He is married and her ladyship is most seriously displeased. In fact, she gave expression to the most extreme anger and disparagement that I quite feared for her health. She besmirched and denigrated her nephew and his bride in equal measure although I believe she reserved her worst insults for that unfortunate young woman._

 _I would feel some regret in imparting this news to you, Lizzie, if it were not for the fact that you are so happily situated with Mr. Waring. I remain convinced that Mr. Darcy held you in some regard and that a bit of effort on your part might have secured his attentions. However, it was not to be and matters not now. Perhaps I should not have written but I thought the news might be of some small interest. I promise to say no more on the matter._

 _I doubt that Mr. Darcy will visit his aunt in the future, if her attitude remains fixed. My husband feels the insult to her ladyship very greatly and, although I have tried to assure him that Miss de Bourgh is unlikely to be seriously disadvantaged by the marriage due to her ill-health, he seems unwilling to take any comfort from such thoughts. I suspect he gives more credit to her ladyship's assertions that her daughter is in good health or, at least, healthy enough to marry and bear a child. The truth is quite the reverse, as anyone who is in company with Miss de Bourgh would attest._

 _I apologize for the brevity of this communication but thought the news it contained was such that you might wish to learn. As well that other possibility I mentioned now seems to be assured. June looks to be the month._

 _I remain your sincere friend,_

 _Charlotte C._

Elizabeth was not sure if she understood her friend's reasons for sharing this information about Mr. Darcy with her. She was pleased, for his sake, that Mr. Darcy had married but it meant nothing to her now. Her own situation was so replete with contentment that she could do naught else but be happy for him also. That he had found another woman to marry bothered her not at all; she only hoped that his addresses to her had been more appropriate and, given that the woman had accepted him, she must believe they had been. They could hardly have been worse she thought with a rueful grimace. She had long expected him to marry and was only surprised that it had taken this long to happen. As for herself, she wished him well, she wished his wife well and hoped he would treat her kindly. She knew him to be an honourable man and, if not possessed of the most pleasing of manners, she could not believe he would be anything other than properly attentive and kind.

She pushed aside all thoughts of Mr. Darcy. In truth it was remarkably easy to do so for, as she searched her feelings, she found that those small twinges of regret that she had not allowed herself to know him better had disappeared. For this she was pleased and knew that any such emotion had been replaced by the happiness that she had found in her marriage. Charlotte's letter drooped her her listless hand as her thoughts returned to the delightful way she had woken her husband. Gifted with his mourning arousal she had found herself almost instantly ready to accept him and quickly impaled herself on him before he had complete woken. Her pleasure, her release had come more quickly than she had expected but her husband had been a little slower and all too soon she found herself on her back and subject to his more relentless probing. It had happened before but she had enjoyed a second crest even as Anthony had achieved his own. It was, she believed with conviction, the most enjoyable way to greet a new day.

Tossing Charlotte's letter aside – she felt no compunction to respond and her friend appeared to have absolved her of the necessity – Elizabeth opened the next, from her sister Kitty who was to go to London and stay with their aunt and uncle until Christmas. Elizabeth knew her sister was quite looking forward to the opportunity and she suspect that Kitty wished to be put in the way of gentleman callers. Kitty would, Elizabeth suspected, be delighted with the change in circumstances as life at Longbourn has afforded her few pleasures. While she has made every effort to assist in the management of the estate and the house, her interest in books, beyond the most exciting novel, was sadly lacking. She missed the society of others quite dearly and had not even the consolation of dancing at an assembly since no one - or, at least, no gentleman of a proper character will stand with her.

As she read her sister's letter, Elizabeth feared that she would be somewhat disappointed once again when visiting with the Gardiners as they moved in a society that will afford her few opportunities to dance. If she was sensible of those activities which will be presented, it is possible that she may encounter a gentleman who could develop an interest in her. Elizabeth remembered speaking to both Kitty and Mary on this very subject but Kitty, in particular, seemed reluctant to improve her understanding and accomplishments beyond those necessary to attract the most frivolous gentleman. Elizabeth thought it fortunate that she no longer held the belief that only a gentleman dressed in regimentals could be of interest, but it appeared to Elizabeth that the character of the man her sister favoured has not changed, only that he not wear regimentals. She could only hope that her aunt could speak to her on thi and that Kitty would listens. Elizabeth quickly read the remainder of the letter and placed it where she would remember to write a reply.

A knock on the door produced Mrs. Turner.

"You wished to speak with me, Mrs. Waring?"

"Indeed I do, Mrs. Turner. Indeed I do!" Elizabeth smiled at the housekeeper with whom she had gradually developed a comfortable working relationship. "I have, just this morning, received confirmation that some of my family will be joining us here for Christmas. You may remember my mentioning last week that Mr. Waring's niece, her husband and their child will be visiting with us for the Christmas season. My sister has also written to inform me that my family will be joining us as well."

Mrs. Turner expressed her satisfaction at the news and inquired as to the numbers of persons involved and when and how long they would be staying. The particulars of which rooms would be assigned to whom, the condition of the rooms – some, Elizabeth was informed, might require some extra work and no little expense to be satisfactory – and the menus quite absorbed the next several hours, requiring them to visit the problematic chambers, discuss the improvements that could be made in the time allowed and then to sit with Cook to discuss possible menus. By the time Mrs. Turner bustled off to begin the tasks that had been identified, Elizabeth was of a mind to seek out her husband and determine if he could be persuaded to accompany her back to her chambers. She found him in his study, as expected, and quite willing, in fact eager, to oblige her.

"Mr. Waring left word that he would be home by eleven, Ma'am."

"Thank you, Mrs. Turner."

The housekeeper let herself out of the room. Elizabeth continued to gaze at the door which had closed behind Mrs. Turner. When she arrived and been introduced as Mrs. Waring to all the staff, Mrs. Turner had effected the introductions with no particular warmth in her manner. Elizabeth had learned that she had been Oaksley Manor's housekeeper for twenty years or more and in service here for some years before that. The days she had spent in her husband's home – now hers as well – when visiting with the Gardiners had allowed her to appreciate the housekeeper's efficiency and dedication to the Manor and its master. Elizabeth had assumed that any reservations harboured by her had more to do with a concern that those routines, with which her master had grown comfortable, not be radically disturbed by the actions of a new wife and had not reflected a dislike for that wife.

Elizabeth had, therefore, been most cautious in asserting her presence, allowing herself to merge with those routines, quietly observing those which caused her some disquiet and determining which might be changed and how to do so with the least effect on her husband. In the process, she had gradually won the respect of the housekeeper. Elizabeth had not intruded greatly into her domain, only assuming those responsibilities which were the province of the Mistress – and previously had been undertaken mainly by her husband. In fact, it would have been, she thought, reflecting back on the past few months, more accurate to say that she had established her own routine within the household and allowed the staff to adjust to her. For those first weeks, her husband had not wished to be separated from her for any significant period of time, nor had she wanted to be separated. When not enjoying the pleasures and comfort of their bed, they had walked together, read together in the library, were called on by their neighbours and returned their calls and – after considerable persuasion on his part – rode together. Elizabeth could not, even now, fathom why she had resisted learning to ride. But she had, and it had taken all her husband's powers of persuasion – which she learned were not inconsiderable - over the first week of their marriage before she consented to learn. Now it was a pastime she enjoyed almost as much as walking. It had come as a surprise to her how much pleasure her husband derived from riding. That first week of their acquaintance he had not indulged in the activity at all - perhaps due to the fact that none of his company rode. However, she was soon to learn that he rode for several hours a day and only the worst of weather would cause him to forsake the enjoyment. Thus she came to realize that learning to ride would allow her more time with her husband and the benefits that accrued far outweighed any objections she might have.

So, she learned to ride and had only to chastise herself for not having done so earlier. She supposed, with some regret, that she would now have to curtail that activity for a time. Unconsciously her hand rubbed her stomach again. It was, in one respect, ill-timed as her husband had gradually begun educating her in the workings of his estate. Already she begu accompanying him on horseback when visiting his tenants and had sat with him during meetings with their steward, Mr. Fry. Already conversant with the household accounts; the estate accounts, while more complicated, were not radically different. Her experience at Longbourn made the process much less difficult and she had surprised even her husband with her ability to grasp what was involved in particular instanes.

If her efforts to learn to ride, and to manage the estate, had pleased her husband, her reluctance to accept an escort when out walking by herself, most definitely had not. He had been visibly irate the first time she returned from a walk and his anger had fallen on both herself, for venturing out unescorted, and upon the housekeeper and butler, for allowing her to do so. At first inclined to believe his ire to be unreasonable and officious, she had gradually come to realize that it was born out of a fear for her safety. She was not used to having someone worry so about her. Her mother never had, too much concerned about her own security and the inconvenience of a daughter that she had never understood, to harbour such fears. She cared not whether Elizabeth walked alone or with an escort, that she did so at all was to be deplored. Her father, good though he might be in many particulars, gave little thought to the security of his daughters. If he had, Lydia would never been allowed to be under the chaperonage of Mrs. Forster, a woman as silly as Lydia herself.

It was the recognition of her husband's fears, and the legitimacy of them, that had eventually led her to rethink her opposition to being escorted. After making her apologies and explanations – and she could not forget her husband's shock at learning of her parent's neglect – an arrangement acceptable to them both had been settled – she would henceforth be accompanied when walking, although her escort would follow at a sufficient distance to allow her the feeling of privacy.

The process of adjusting had, by necessity, impinged upon her husband also and while some changes had been welcomed, others had not. As a man of more than forty years and one accustomed to a solitary life, he was ill-prepared for the inclusion of a younger and sociable wife in his routines. He had rarely socialized and never entertained. This was to change and it had taken her own considerable powers of persuasion to convince him to begin inviting his neighbours to dine. Those same neighbours had not been slow to start issuing their own invitations and more than one had been carelessly and thoughtlessly discarded before she was made aware that such had happened. Her embarrassment upon learning of his actions – only last week she had been confronted by a neighbour who had issued an invitation – had been extreme and she rather suspected that her display of anger had quite surprised him and sparked an angry response from him in return. It been several hours before tempers had cooled, a reconciliation effected – again a delightful one she remembered – and corrective measures identified. Her husband remained of a somewhat unsociable bent – perfectly amiable with small groups and those he knew well but uncomfortable when in company with a large number of persons – but had reconciled himself to more frequent entertaining to please his wife. For her part, she attempted to ensure that dinners and other events were of a size and composition as to not discomfort him too greatly.

She had been married a scant three months which had passed so well as to leave her quite bemused and wondering if all new wives were equally happy and content. 'You will have no regrets in marrying me, husband' she had vowed and had no reason to think that it had been broken. Certainly for her part, she had no regrets from her marriage.

Her husband was not without fault. What man, what woman, could be. Certainly she knew her own faults all too well. Nonetheless, these past months had proven that, despite their individual faults, they were able to work through those conflicts and disagreements that arose. The affection that held between them and their willingness to compromise for the benefit of the other allowed them to reconcile their differences. In fact, she rather thought, with an inner glee, that her husband's delightful means of reconciling their last argument had contributed to this euphoria she was currently feeling. She chuckled and rested a hand on her belly.

This was simply the logical next step in the progression of her role as Mistress of Oaksley Manor. She had entered this house, inexperienced in the duties that faced her. Now she faced a new role but one that she could and would embrace fully.

A knock sounded on the door and her husband entered upon her response. She smiled at him and held out her hand which he quickly strode forward to grasp and then seated himself beside by on the settee.

"How are the Swindons? Have they settled into the new house?"

"They are fine and yes, they have quite made themselves at home. Delighted with the larger house they are. They were sorry that you were not feeling well enough to join me but I sent your regrets and the promise to call."

"Which I will do as soon as possible. I…"

"How do you feel now, Beth? I was worried about you. Being ill is so unusual for you." Only her husband called her Beth and only in their intimate moments.

"I am well now. Very well. I have some news – good and bad. Shall I save the good news till after you learn the bad news?"

Waring just looked at his wife quizzically trying to reconcile her palatable joy with the idea of bad news, "As you wish."

"I shall most probably be ill in the mornings for several months and perhaps more tired than usual. Mt appetite may also suffer for a sort while."

"I do not understand." His worry became more obvious and her cheerfulness puzzled him. Her smile wider as she replied, "We have shared a bed every night since our marriage, have we not?"

Waring was obviously puzzled by her question. "Yes, I believe so."

"Does that not suggest something to you?"

He shook his head, his confusion even greater.

"My last courses were a week prior to our marriage…."

His incomprehension did not appear to have lessened for several moments until a most astonished look overspread his countenance. "Do you mean….?"

"That you are to become a father next June….yes!"

The week before Christmas saw the arrival of Waring's niece, her husband and their infant son. The last vestiges of light remained in the December sky, which had been dark with rain and clouds all day, when the Hart's carriage rumbled to a stop in front of the Manor house. A journey which was to have taken but six hours had, in fact, required more than eight to complete as rain and cold tired the horses and slowed the trip. It was readily apparent that the travellers were more in need of rest and a bath than company and Elizabeth wasted no time in showing them to their chambers and having hot water provided.

An hour or so later Mrs. Mary Hart and her husband – Mr. Jonathon Hart – joined their hosts in the family drawing room. While Elizabeth had been introduced to the couple at her wedding, circumstances had not allowed for more than the briefest of intercourse. Mrs. Hart was small, rather delicate and attractive young woman of two and twenty whose manners were pleasing as she greeted Elizabeth with every evidence of pleasure.

"I will not ask, " said she, "If you are enjoying being married to my uncle. I can see that you are….Aunt Elizabeth."

"Oh, this will never do, " laughed Elizabeth, "You must simply call me Elizabeth or Lizzy, as does my family, and I shall call you Mary….although…"

She paused for a few seconds, obviously perplexed which caused Mrs. Hart to inquire as to he concern.

"Oh, it is not really a problem but my sister, who will be arriving with my parents in a day or two, is also named Mary. However will you know who I am speaking to?"

Mary Hart laughed, "I am sure it will not be a concern."

Elizabeth shook her head "And my niece is named Elizabeth. Since she is not a year old as yet that should not be a problem."

Conversation continued for some minutes as the travellers discussed the rigours of the journey, inquired after the Waring's wedding trip and were informed as to the other guests who were expected the following day. The announcement that dinner was ready did not inhibit the flow of discourse as they moved to the small dining room. Elizabeth, in her initial meeting with the Harts, had thought them to be an amiable and intelligent couple. She found no reason to revise that opinion the more she became acquainted with them. Nonetheless both Elizabeth and Anthony felt a certain awkwardness between the Harts and themselves; the opposition of his niece's parents to Waring's marriage had not been raised. It was an uncomfortable topic and not one that any of them wished to raise in fear of ruining the harmony that was developing between the two couples.

Yet it could not be ignored and raising the issue when more guests were present was not something Elizabeth wished to even contemplate; hence, after dinner was finished and they had removed to the drawing room, Elizabeth chose to broach the topic.

"Mary, Jonathon, I believe I speak for Anthony when I say how much we appreciated your attendance at our wedding and that you chose to spend Christmas with us."

Waring, despite his surprise at Elizabeth raising the topic, was quick to echo her appreciation.

"Indeed, Elizabeth speaks for both of us on this." He would not raise the issue of her parent's disdain for the marriage nor inquire into their reaction to their daughter's action. He did not expect his niece to comment on the matter at all. He was, therefore, surprised when he saw his niece surreptitiously glance at her husband who responded with a slight nod.

"Actually, Uncle," said she, "Jonathon and I were delighted at your marriage and most eager to further our acquaintance with Elizabeth. You see…." And she hesitated.

Her husband took up the office of explaining as he realized his wife was reluctant to criticize her parents.

"Allow me, my dear." And interpreting her silence as acquiescence, he continued, "You Mrs Waring…"

"Please, I insist you call me Elizabeth. We are family as I have already told your wife."

Hart nodded and responded with a wry smile, "Thank you. I shall endeavour to remember to do so." He turned to Waring, "Mary has always considered you her favourite uncle and quite regretted that we – you and I - did not have the opportunity to become better acquainted before I married her."

A pause of several seconds occurred before he spoke again. "It may not have been too obvious at our wedding but Mary encountered some opposition to our marriage from the Stokes family." His lips assumed a rather twisted smile. "I am, you see, the owner of a very modest estate and certainly not grand enough to warrant the notice of many of them. Her parents were not pleased that I courted her and, for a time, I feared my suit would fail."

He smiled at his wife, "Mary, however, insisted she would marry no other and her parents finally relented."

His wife looked at him saucily, "I believe I was heard to murmur _Gretna Green_ a few times."

Waring laughed, "I am sure your parents could not have wished for _that_ outcome."

Hart smiled, "I doubt it would ever have gone so far; however, we have been quite happy to remain at Howston. When the news of your marriage reached us, Mary was quite determined to attend. I am glad we did."

Elizabeth could not help but inquire, "Your estate is in Leicestershire; however, did you become acquainted?"

Mary chuckled, "Jonathon was visiting Manchester on business and attended a private ball hosted by a common acquaintance of ours. He…"

"I saw her almost as soon as I arrived and asked for a dance." Interrupted Hart, "Fortunately,her card was not filled and …"

"When the dance ended, he shocked me greatly by asking for another." Mary smiled at her husband, "I did have to make him wait for several dances. I could not dance two sets together with any gentleman."

"Of course not!" said Elizabeth.

"But she did dance the supper dance with me, and I was quite entranced by her. When I asked if I might call upon her, she agreed."

"And the next, he called in the afternoon. My mother was quite shocked and not altogether happy about it." She smiled at her husband, "He was quite determined though and six months later we married." She looked at Elizabeth with a half-smile on her lips and a speculative gleam in her eye.

"Now that we have regaled you with our courtship, you must return the compliment. How and where did you meet? Come I must know it all."

Waring looked sideways at his wife uncertainly but her slight smile and nod made the duty his. He leaned back, raised his teacup to his lips to hide the grin that threatened his countenance and deliberately took drank the remainder of its contents before setting it down in its saucer. "You want to know how we met? Well, one morning last July I decided to go fishing…."

Waring's light-hearted rendering of the beginnings of his courtship of Elizabeth was embellished by her frequent interjections comprised of comments about the quantity and quality of ale consumed, tangled fishing lines and long walks through Oaksley's park. Finally Mary Hart asked, "Didi you expect my uncle's courtship offer, Elisabeth?"

"Did you expect yours?" teased Elizabeth.

Mary Hart could not be induced to respond, simply shaking her head although Elizabeth was unsure if she was responding the question or simply refusing an answer. In any event, Anthony Waring chose that moment to attempt to change the conversation to a more comfortable topic by beginning to inquire of the Hart's wedding trip and the two couples spent much of the remainder of the evening discussing the attractions encountered on the respective trips.

The Gardiners, Bennets and Simmonses arrived the next evening as daylight was fading. The rain had ceased the night before and the roads, id not dry, were less of an impediment than had been the case the day before. Elizabeth had not seen her cousins for several months. Margaret, the eldest, was becoming quite the young lady under her mother's guidance while Edward, the eldest son and born third, greeted her with the most impressive bow and was quite pleased to receive the curtsey from Cousin Lizzy who, however, ruined the solemnity of the occasion by immediately bestowing a warm hug upon him. He seemed to suffer the indignity with good grace, however, and Elizabeth suspected his feelings were, if his blush was an indication, more of embarrassment than affront. She resolved to embarrass him further during his stay for, as she later told her husband, "A gentleman must learn to accept some teasing and embarrassment at the hands of a lady and I shall, with Kitty's assistance, attempt to further his education in this area."

Elizabeth was astonished at how the presence of her young cousins enlivened the house. Even her father could not withstand such resolute high spirits and ventured out from the library to share in the company and Mary quite put aside reading Fordyce for ChristmasDay. Elizabeth could only wish that she would continue to do so and refrain from quoting him too frequently. To Elizabeth's surprise she learned that her sister also quite enjoyed reading to their cousins and accepted their aunt's direction that Fordyce was not a suitable subject. Elizabeth, on more than one occasion, observed her husband watching the children and, upon realizing that he had noticed the direction of his interest.

Elizabeth's first christmas as Mistress of Oaksley Manor was replete with the best possible company comprised of people of amiable disposition and easy conversation on a variety of topics. If mr. Bennet was disposed to spend most of his time alone in the library, his absence did not disconcert anyone else; and if Mrs. Bennet tended to be silly, evidence of her nerves was happily lacking and between them, Jane and Mrs. Gardiner were able to moderate the worst of her effusions.

Several days after harts arrived, Elizabeth happened upon Mrs. Hart sitting alone in the family parlour and wishing to know her better joined her on the settee. Mrs. Hart was receptive to such overtures and they soon found themselves comfortably discussing Mrs. Hart's consuming interest, her young son, a boy of 2 years. Elizabeth did not reveal that she was with child but her own experience in tending her cousins enabled her to share in the young mother's concerns. During the course of their conversation, Mrs. Hart mentioned her brother.

"I have no brothers, only sisters. What was yours like?" asked Elizabeth. What little her husband had revealed of his nephew did not paint a particularly pleasant picture of him.

Mrs. Hart's response was tepid, "He is, as brothers go, I suppose acceptable." Said she, "He is four years my senior and we had little to do with one another."

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose. In the Bennet household, she and her sisters had, despite their difference in ages, been much in each other's company if not always in an harmonious fashion.

"Perhaps," she said, "That is the difference with boys. My sisters and I were always close, if not always happily so."

Mrs. Hart was silent for several long moments before casting her eyes around the room as if to ensure their privacy and saying, "I found my brother's manners and even his friends, somewhat…objectionable."

Elizabeth could not mask her surprise but was reluctant to pursue the matter further. She and her niece – odd though it was to think of her as such – had yet to establish that degree of intimacy which might encourage greater intimacies.

"I see, " said she, "that the subject makes you uncomfortable. Perhaps…."

"No! No!", replied Mrs. Hart, "Do not misunderstand me. My brother is not dissolute or prone to bad behaviour." She paused briefly before saying, "He is, in many respects, much like my father."

"Ahhh" said Elizabeth, understanding , "from what little my husband has said I comprehend that yiur father has a great veneration for rank and fortune."

"Yes."

"Are your brother's thoughts on my marriage much the same as your father's?"

Mrs. Hart nodded, "I must apologize for their behaviour. I…"

Elizabeth interrupted briskly, "No, that you shall not. You have done nothing for which an apology is necessary. You have been a most delightful guest and Anthony and I are delighted that you and your husband have visited with us. It will not, we hope, be the last such visit."

Mrs. Hart smiled, "And you must agree to visit us in Leicestershire. Perhaps next summer?"

Elizabeth knew it was unlikely that she would be able to travel next summer – not with a newborn infant. Her reply was cautious, "I would like very much to visit. Perhaps we can discuss this again before you leave."

The two ladies continued to talk amiably for another few minutes before they were joined by several other memebers of the party.

"May I have your attention, please!" Anthony Waring's words rose above the murmur of people settling themselves at the table. His thoughts very briefly called forth the memory of his last Christmas. He had dined alone and found little joy in the day. Now it was altogether different.

"I will not restrain your desire to enjoy this wonderful meal that Cook has prepared for us – at least I will not ask you to restrain yourselves for too long. I do have a few thoughts I wish to express. First, I cannot easily express my pleasure in your company. It has been too many years since such a large gathering has enjoyed a Christmas dinner here at oaksley. I hope that my family, old – and he raised his wine glass to the Harts – and the new – and the glass was swept around to encompass the others – will ensure that this is but the first of many such celebrations."

This was greeted with acclamation by the others and it was almost a minute before Waring could reclaim their attention.

"Before I allow you to dine, I have one more announcement. Last summer I met and married a wonderful woman who has, in only a few short months, brought inestimable joy into my life. A fortnight ago, my happiness increased even more when she told me that we may expect our first child next June. Ladies and gentlemen, I ask you to raise your glass to Mrs. Elizabeth Waring."

Congratulations overflowed from all. Mrs. Bennet, for whom the invitation to Oaksley Manor had largely reconciled her to Elizabeth's refusal to allow her mother to supervise her wedding, was surprisingly modest in her exclamations of happiness; and, if her voice was the loudest, they were also noteworthy for their brevity. Mrs. Hart regarded Elizabeth after expressing her pleasure at the news and ventured to say, "I believe I now understand your reluctance to visit us this summer. I shall not surrender the wish for you and my uncle to visit. Perhaps, " and she looked at Waring, "we could consider September for a visit?"

Waring agreed that September might be acceptable if Elizabeth and the babe were able to travel.

With so many people in company, it proved difficult for Elizabeth to meet with either her aunt or Jane in private and both meetings were much desired, as she had not seen either for more than an hour or two as they passed through London after their wedding trip. One morning, several days after Christmas Day, she encountered Jane unencumbered by either child or husband, invited her into her private sitting room and prepared to discuss her sister's concerns about her marriage. Expecting her sister to restate her concerns and inquire into the state of her feelings, Elizabeth was surprised by Jane's first comment as her sister settled into the settee beside her.

"I am very pleased with your husband, Lizzy. It is also, I concede, a relief that you are so happy with him. For it appears to me that you are very much in love with him."

Elizabeth hardly knew how to respond to this assertion. If Jane had become slightly more open to the possibility that people were not invariably kind and good, she also became extremely uncomfortable when reflecting on the baser characteristics or on poor behaviour displayed by her acquaintances. Elizabeth knew that her sister had largely ignored their father's conduct and could not be brought to utter any critical opinion. If she knew the true state of her sister's feelings, Jane would be most unhappy. Dissembling then was Elizabeth's only option.

"My husband is a fine man and I am most fortunate." She said. "I have no cause to repine my marriage."

Jane seemed rather puzzled at her sister's somewhat disingenuous answer.

"But Lizzy ….."

Elizabeth saw her perplexed look and knew she would have to provide more assurance to satisfy Jane's reawakened concern and she interrupted her quickly, "You have no cause to doubt my affections for my husband, Jane." She smiled, "I hope I will not pain you too greatly when I tell you that, as excellent as your husband is, I hold Anthony in greater affection than James."

Jane laughed seemingly reassured by her sister's teasing and, to Elizabeth's relief, began to talk of her sister's impending confinement and offering to attend her. This offer Elizabeth was quick to accept saying, "That would please me greatly Jane and I hope to have our aunt with me as well. Mama, however, shall not be invited. I cannot believe her nerves would serve me well."

It was the night before they were to return to London that Elizabeth was finally able to speak in private with Mrs. Gardiner. The meeting was sought eagerly by both parties and, when two people have a desire for a private conversation and are under a press of time, matters can usually be satisfactorily arranged. So Mr. Gardiner found himself banished to the billiard room, a fate that was not disagreeable to him, and given to understand that his absence would not be remarked upon for the next hour or so. Mrs. Gardiner, after her discussion with Elizabeth prior to her marriage, was concerned a to the state of her niece's feelings. Nothing that she had gleaned from the letters she had received suggested any discontent but neither was there any mention of the state of Elizabeth's affections for her husband. That Elizabeth respected her husband and held him in considerable esteem, Mrs. Gardiner knew. That there was also a basis of affection on Elizabeth's part had also been vouchsafed to her although unequal to those of her husband. Nor had she expect Elizabeth to write explicitly of her feelings and she wondered if Elizabeth would be more open even now. Mrs. Gardiner had come intending to observe her niece's behaviour towards her husband and determine, from that the state of her affections.

She had watched and observed for almost a fortnight and had been unable to arrive at a firm conclusion. Elizabeth's ease of manner with her husband were much as they ever were although with a trace of additional familiarity as would be expected after several months of wedlock. She had intercepted exchanges of glances that were difficult to interpret but, for the most part, appeared warm and affectionate. More telling were the touches, the placing of a hand on his arm, brushing against him as they stood together, standing together more closely than would be considered quite proper but, in their own home, not unacceptable. Elizabeth and her husband had, on several occasions, been unavailable for an hour so during the afternoon, and Mrs. Gardiner, remembering the early days of her own marriage, could easily imagine how they had occupied themselves. If she was to reach any conclusions it would be that her niece was quite satisfied in terms of marital intimacies and that her affections had increased as well. But was she in love with her husband? And would Elizabeth confide in her? Should she even ask?

Elizabeth forestalled her aunt's inquiries almost as soon as she had seated herself. "I believe you wish to inquire into my feelings for Anthony?" Her words were accompanied by a raised eyebrow and a slight smile.

Mrs. Gardiner response was cautious, "Only should you wish to speak of it. I am quite content with what I have observed."

"And, dear aunt, what have you concluded from your observations?"

Mrs. Gardiner paused for several moments before deciding that, as Elizabeth had opened the subject, there was nothing to be gained by being missish about the matter. "Well, for one, I suspect that you enjoy marital relations with your husband – a great deal, in fact."

Elizabeth flushed and confined her self to a brief nod. Enjoy, she thought, was a paltry word for the pleasures involved, She decided to risk a small tease, "I suffer such intimacies quite willingly, you may be sure."

Mrs. Gardiner snorted, "I dare say!"

"And what else have you concluded, O Wise Aunt?"

"Disrespectful child!" laughed Mrs. Gardiner. She chuckled for several seconds before continuing, "I believe your affections have grown but how much I cannot say."

Elizabeth was silent and her aunt forbore to interrupt her thoughts until finally, after a pause that had lasted several minutes, she prompted, "Lizzy?"

Elizabeth appeared reluctant to answer and Mrs. Gardiner was about to declaim any need of a response when finally her niece replied, "You have the right of it that my affections have grown. I am well content and I doubt I could have married a finer man. I should love him, should I not? But I cannot say that my feelings consist of that passionate attachment one has been led to expect. I do not know if what I feel is love, but it is certainly a strong affection. I would not wish to be married to another and the prospect of living the rest of my days with him beside me, leaves me quite content."


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter 15

 _ **January, 1815 - Oaksley Manor, Wiltshire**_

Elizabeth woke slowly, her hand unconsciously reaching out to feel for the warm body she had become used to. But it was not there. Her husband had come to her bed last night and she had fallen asleep in his arms as she did every night since they married, but he had left her at some time during the night to return to his own bed – something he was doing with increasing regularity over the last month. She supposed that he was concerned that he might disturb her rest and she did admit to tiring more easily and appreciating the extra sleep. While she missed the warmth of his body, given her condition, she was not unhappy at the privacy that having a separate bed chamber provided. She rather suspected that her husband found it more restful as well since, if her aunt was to be believed, her sleep would become increasingly fitful, it was perhaps not a bad thing for them to sleep apart as much as possible.

As she lay abed in a half-dozing, half-waking state, she felt the slightest flutter in her stomach. She had once captured a butterfly and held in a cup formed by her hands. The flutter of the insect's wings against her palms was much the same feeling as that in her stomach. If she was correct, the babe had quickened and she could now be certain that she was with child. It was not that she had doubted the symptoms but the quickening was an assurance that the babe was alive. In five months, he – and she did not know why she was so certain that it would be a boy, but she was – would be born.

The urge to find her husband and share this news was overwhelming and it was a matter of only ten minutes for her to be washed, dressed and in search of her husband. This was news he awaited with an eagerness equal to her own.

 _ **Late January, 1815 - Pemberley, Derbyshire**_

On those nights Darcy visited his wife's bed, he remained. His wife was in the habit of sleeping with her back to him, clasping her hand over his as it encompassed her breast, and when Darcy would wake in his usual morning condition, she was only too pleased to attend to his wants. Today, however, the means of alleviating his discomfort was absent, and the sounds of retching drew him quickly out of bed and garbed in his dressing gown. His wife, he found kneeling in the water closet being sick. As he entered she rose, and accepted from him the damp cloth he offered to wipe her face and mouth. His inquiries as to her health and the need for a physician drew a response from her that astonished and pleased him in equal measure.

"I do not think I need to see Mr. Phelps, William. Although it would do no harm, I suppose. My condition – well I have had my suspicions but I think I can now say with some assurance that I am with child."

Darcy's profusions of delight were more than sufficient to warm Judith's heart and, if he was concerned for her safety – his mother had died as a result of Georgiana's birth, after all – he was wise enough to suppress them in her company. She professed a desire to return to bed and sleep and he joined her there to offer the comfort of his arms. William's pleasure at the news equaled her own. He had told her that he wished for a family and she could not deny her satisfaction in becoming with child so quickly. Enwrapped in his arms, she allowed herself to relax and drop into a satisfying slumber.

Once assured that she had fallen asleep, Darcy rose and began his day's activities. The information on Judith's condition would be shared with no one as yet.

As he was partaking of his breakfast, Mr. Harris entered the room with a number of letters. The weather had been such, for the past weeks, as to bestow an inordinate amount of snow on Derbyshire and Pemberley and its surrounds had received an appropriate amount. So much had been gifted them that travel had been curtailed completely and they had not received any posts for more than a week. After quickly sorting his personal from business posts and directing Harris to place the latter in his study, he turned his attention to the four personal letters one of which was in the hand of his wife's father. This was laid aside for her to read later. His letters were from his uncle, Lord Matlock; his aunt, Lady Catherine – he could almost read her anger without opening the letter; and his friend, Bingley, whose letter was characterized by its usual hasty and almost illegible direction – he often wondered at the miracle that more of his friend's posts did not go astray.

He chose to open his uncle's letter first; and was glad he had done so. His uncle had not been altogether pleased at his marriage, deeming his nephew's wife deficient in those attributes he considered most important in a marriage. His first letter, received just before the wedding had expressed his distaste quite thoroughly. He had, however, not directed his anger at Judith Farrell but – in the Earl's estimation - at his nephew's want of sense. His disappointment, he asserted was extreme; however, he did not suggest that his disapproval would extend so far as to sever ties with his Darcy connection. This most recent letter was much more tolerant. Having come to the realization that his nephew was married – an act which could not be undone – he was resolved to ensure that the Fitzwilliam and Darcy reputations did not suffer from such an imprudent connection. To this end, the Earl indicated – and he spoke for his wife on this matter – that Darcy and his wife were expected to visit them at the Matlock estate as soon as was possible. The letter was brief – containing only a short comment to the effect that his sister's discontent had not abated but that she would not impinge on the connection or the reputation of the Darcy family. If it was not a warm letter, the tone was more civil than its predecessor and gave Darcy hope that once his relatives had come to know his wife their objections and concerns would lessen further. He doubted that they would ever be unreservedly pleased at his marriage; civility and respect would, however, be sufficient. He would talk to Judith and they would decide, allowing for how she was feeling, on an appropriate date to visit.

He read Lady Catherine's letter next. Assured of his uncle's support, he was less concerned with his aunt's opinions. As it turned out, her second letter was of a tone akin to the first and a single reading adequate to ensure that no useful purpose was to be gained by either replying or retaining the letter. To the fire, it was dispatched.

Bingley's letter had the next call on his attention and he perforce had to read it three times to ensure that he had grasped correctly its content.

 _Ashford Manor._

 _Sussex_

 _January 2, 1815_

 _Darcy,_

 _You must congratulate me. I am to join you in marriage and to a veritable angel. Lady Amanda Nelson has made me the happiest of men and agreed to become my wife. We are to marry in two months and I was hoping that you would stand with me. I realize that we have not been much in each other's company during the past twelthmonth, and for that I must accept the responsibility. Please say that you will do so and allow me the opportunity to mend our friendship. We have yet to set a firm date but, as soon as that is done, I will notify you. I am sure my betrothed's family can accommodate you, your wife and Georgiana should she wish to attend. I did encounter your sister quite frequently this past season. She has grown into quite a lovely young woman, indeed._

 _I am sure that you must wonder at this news although it is less shocking than yours when you informed me of your marriage. But more on that later. I met Lady Amanda at Almack's this past November. Caroline introduced us and I was lost almost immediately. She is the second oldest daughter of the Earl of _. Caroline is most pleased with the family although I find them rather stiff and not altogether welcoming. They did invite Caroline and me to visit over Christmas and I must assume that it was with the intention of furthering the match. Lady Amanda was quite receptive to my attentions and I requested her hand not two days past. Her father's consent was applied for and given. I must admit I was a little surprised that he accepted my suit since he was none too pleased by my connection to trade. My assurances that I planned to acquire an estate as soon as a suitable one presented itself seemed to mollify him._

 _Now, I must advise you that – not unexpectedly I am sure – Caroline was quite displeased when informed of your marriage. I fear I had to replace numerous dishes after imparting the news. It surprised me somewhat because I had believed her to have quite given up any expectations of a match between you. Obviously I erred and misread her expectations completely. She was particularly incensed when apprised of your wife's background. I am ashamed of her behaviour. It has, I am afraid, not improved since and she speaks naught of Mrs. Darcy except to disparage her. I have spoken to Caroline but she heeds me not and, unfortunately, she seems to have a willing audience in my betrothed's family._

 _I hope that this frank admission does not dissuade you from attending my wedding but I suspect, nay fear, that it will. For that, I cannot blame you. I know you too well to believe that you would willing accept any disparagement of your wife and I could not ask you and your wife to attend without warning you of the possible nature of your welcome. I have warned Caroline but she is deaf to my words and short of estranging myself from her, I can see no way to control her. I am not so rich in relatives that I would wish to lose any of those that I have. I can only hope that our friendship is not jeopardized by Caroline's behaviour._

 _Please advise me of your intentions and be assured that I will understand completely should you decide against attending the wedding. If such is the case, I would hope that you would be agreeable to a visit from me and my bride either at Pemberley or in town._

 _As ever, your friend,_

 _Charles B._

Darcy put this letter aside. His disinclination to attend Bingley's wedding was great. Miss Bingley's open disparagement of his wife was surprising; he would have thought that the fear of losing the Darcy connection would cause her to conceal her displeasure at his marriage. He could only conclude that the support to be gained by a connection to the Earl of _ outweighed the loss of the Darcys'. That she risked the loss of the Matlock connection as well may not have been included in her calculations. He would show the letter to Judith and consider her advice before responding to Bingley. He was inclined to cut all ties with Miss Bingley and hoped that his friend could be reconciled to his actions; but, if he could not then, as unfortunate as that might be, he would have no choice but to remove his friend from amongst his acquaintances. He would accept no abridgement in the respect shown to his wife.

He thought of Judith warmly. He had no regrets about his decision to marry her. She was an excellent companion and would be a good Mistress of Pemberley. Those uncertainties that had bedevilled her in the days following their marriage had not prevented her from moving carefully but cautiously into that role. Her confidence seemed to grow daily. While she still made the odd mistake or misjudgement none were of a serious nature and her willingness to take advice and the sureness with which she acted upon her decisions won her the respect of both Mrs. Reynolds and Mr. Harris. Even Mr. Grant had been pleased with her initial forays into dealing with Pemberley's tenants. Her experience in parish work stood her in good stead, and her comfort and ease in dealing with the tenant families earned her a general approbation from those she had encountered. That she might now carry the Darcy heir, would only serve to enhance her status.

By the time he had finished the last letter, Judith had made her way to join him. A cup of tea and some toast appeared to be all that her stomach could handle and her pallor worried him greatly; however, she could not be persuaded to return to her room, instead inquired after the mail he had received. Her own letter from her father was quickly read and, since it contained little of pressing interest, set aside for later consideration. Darcy satisfied her inquiries by allowing her to read first his uncle's letter and then Bingley's. To the Earl's invitation, she gave her opinion quite decidedly.

"Of course, we must visit - for a week perhaps? They are your nearest relatives. We cannot slight their acquaintance."

"They are not likely to be overly friendly, Judith."

"No, I gather that to be the case, but we must visit nonetheless. They will be civil, surely?"

"I would expect that of them. I will accept nothing less."

"When should we visit?"

Darcy gave this only a little thought as he had already arrived at what he considered a reasonable time.

"Most of the snow should be gone, and the weather better, if we travel in April. Would the babe have quickened by then?"

Judith considered that question for some moments, "I cannot say. I suspect so but I should like to ask the physician and Mrs. Reynolds for their opinions."

"If we wait till then, we could make the trip an opportunity to announce our news."

Judith laughed, "I am sure my presence will be more welcomed if I come bearing the Darcy heir."

Darcy reached across and laid his hand atop hers, "You will be welcomed and accepted for yourself alone, Judith. The babe is simply a gift to us."

Obviously affected by his words, Judith redirected his attention and picked up Bingley's letter to read it once more. When she finished puzzling it out, she looked at her husband, "Do you wish to go? To stand by your friend?"

Darcy shook his head, "I am sorry to say that the prospect pleases me very little. I esteem Bingley greatly but he allows his sister too much control over his life. I am not of a mind to allow her to abuse you or be uncivil, or at least attempt to do so, without there being some punishment."

"I must say that this letter raises some interesting questions. Why would the Earl agree to such an engagement to a gentleman he would otherwise disparage. That Lady Amanda was introduced to your friend by his sister and that she, for one of her rank, would accept an offer so quickly – although I am not in a position to speak against it – raises concerns on my part. Do you know of her?"

"I have never heard her mentioned before this. I know Caroline Bingley all too well, and any lady she favours as a match for her brother will, I suspect, serves her purposes more than her brother's. I fear for my friend's happiness, but cannot assist him in any way." At her quizzical look, he continued, "I wonder as to the state of the Earl's coffers. Bingley is quite wealthy and, though I do not know the family, I question his motives and those of his daughter; however, Bingley has not sought my guidance and I shall saying nothing."

"How shall you reply to his requests?"

"I have given this some thought and believe I shall simply claim that the weather and your condition prevent us from attending. I may also…" He took a sip of his coffee and noted the quizzical look directed at him by his wife. He chuckled, "I was going to say that I would also inform Bingley that I would accept no disparagement of you by his sister, and that, should I learn of any such behaviour, she would be dropped from our acquaintance and never permitted to enter any of our residences." He fixed her with his gaze, "Do you disagree?"

"I do not know Miss Bingley. I would regret – I believe you would regret – such action severing your friendship with Mr. Bingley. For myself, I think too little of such people to be overly bothered by their disparaging remarks." She grinned at him, "I have, after all, such an extraordinary source of happiness in being your wife that they can hurt me but little. Your Miss Bingley sounds like a poor creature indeed!"

"She is definitely not my Miss Bingley, Mrs. Darcy! Of that, you may be assured."

Darcy failed signally in assuming an affronted look and they both began to laugh. Judith finally controlled her mirth sufficiently to ask, "And about Mr. Bingley and his wife visiting?"

"We shall certainly receive them in town. As to whether we invite them to Pemberley, I would hesitate to do so if it were to discomfit you."

Judith nodded, "We shall see them in town and decide then on whether to further the acquaintance."

Letters were dispatched later that day; one to the earl indicating that the Darcy's would be delighted to visit in April and that a suitable date would be decided upon as the time approached; and another to Bingley, declining to attend, expressing their regrets for doing so and indicating a desire to meet his wife during their sojourn in town during the spring. An appropriate warning as to Miss Bingley's behaviour was appended although Darcy had few illusions that it would have a material impact.

 **April, 1815 – London**

It was the clatter of the wheels on the cobblestones more than the the roughness of the ride that finally woke Judith. She had dropped off to sleep about an hour after their departure from the coaching inn where they had made their last change of horses. She was no longer as fatigued as she was during the early weeks of her pregnancy; however, the past week had not been one which allowed her to truly relax. When they arrived at Wollston Hall, the country seat of the Matlocks, they found that none of the Matlock's children were present and thus were required to be in the company of the Countess and Earl almost continually. It had taken no great discernment to recognize their cold civility and Judith felt a constant need to guard her behaviour and words for the length of their visit. Fortunately, Georgiana had accompanied them and her interactions with her aunt and uncle gradually eased theirs for Judith.

Georgiana was a great favourite of Lady Matlock and when the countess observed the strong affection between her niece and Judith, she made an effort to improve her understanding of the new Mrs. Darcy. That the latter had a connection to the nobility, albeit only a Baron and a relatively impoverished one at that (if rumours were to be believed), spoke in her favour. Her intelligence and good-humour were readily discernible after only a few conversations and she had seen nothing wanting in her comportment. Georgiana would be entering her second season shortly and while the Countess was not disheartened that no suitor had captured her niece's interest during her first season, she did hope that Georgiana would be more successful this year. If Mrs. Darcy could assist in achieving that outcome, the Countess would be quite pleased to enlist her aid. The fact that Judith was with child should not prove a hindrance for a month or two as the physical signs of her condition were scarcely noticeable and could be easily masked by a competent modiste.

The Countess was also greatly pleased that Judith was with child so early in her marriage. She herself had taken almost three years before she was so blessed and she well remembered the anxiety and hidden censure she felt from her husband's family during that time. The prospect of being barren was not something she wished on any young wife.

That her nephew appeared quite content in his marriage did not escape her. She understood quite well the reasons for their early departures to their chambers and why, on more than one occasion in the mornings, they were the last to break their fast. If she could not altogether approve of his choice of a wife, she recognized that the choice was his and that he was happy with it. Her reservations about his choice were, by the end of the Darcy's visit, chiefly allayed and her determination to smooth Judith's entry into society was reflected in a friendlier manner with her. Plans were laid for dinners and public entertainments which would exhibit the Matlock's active support and approval for their new niece.

The Earl's role in all this was much more circumspect. His opinion of Darcy's choice mirrored his wife's; however, he was given fewer opportunities to come to know her as he seemed more inclined to meet and talk with Darcy and allow his wife to lead in any interaction with Darcy's wife. Judith sat at his right during their meals and their conversations, stilted at first, gradually found a degree of ease.

The night before they left, Darcy broached the matter with Judith.

"My uncle, having met and come to know you, is not as unhappy about our marriage as he was."

Judith grimaced but forbore to respond.

Darcy understood her expression, "He will support us in town and actually suggested we make several public appearances together. If he is unhappy about the marriage, he was impressed by you. He said he thought you would do well as Mistress of Pemberley."

"And yet he disapproves of the marriage?"

"It is not your character that is at issue with him but rather the lack of fortune and connections." Darcy paused to collect his thoughts, "He does not, you see, appreciate the value I place on those characteristics that make you so suitable as my wife, the mother of my children and the Mistress of Pemberley. To me, they outweigh any lack of fortune or connections. My uncle cannot, or will not, see this."

Judith snuggled into his body, apparently warmed by his words, and was shortly too much engaged to worry overmuch about the Earl's opinion.

 **May, 1815 – Oaksley Manor, Wiltshire**

Anthony Waring was a worried man. No matter the assurances of Mr. Gardiner and Mr. Simmons, both of whom had experienced the event, and his wife's reassurance that her mother had birthed five daughters with nary a problem, Waring could not put aside his fears. Waring, however, was far from assured that his wife's experience would be different and the cries emanating from the birthing room only fuelled his anguish.

It had begun shortly following luncheon. Elizabeth complained of a sore back after waking but had not mentioned it again. It was only when the first pain struck followed by her waters bursting that they realized it signalled the onset of birthing. Waring who had been walking with his wife at the time, picked her up to carry her into the house and yelled for the midwife to be called to attend her immediately. It was only the good sense of Mrs. Turner, Mrs. Gardiner and Elizabeth's sister, Jane, that prevented the complete loss of his composure. Once given to understand that the process was a matter of many hours and that his child would not be born before the midwife could arrive, he calmed sufficiently to allow Elizabeth to be cared for by the women assisting her. He was not happy to be dismissed from attending his wife who added her plea to those of her sister and Mrs. Turner to accept that this was a process for women only.

He could only be thankful for the calming presence of Jane Simmons and, with a wry smile, to the calming absence of Mrs. Bennet. Elizabeth had spoken to him forcefully on her desire that her mother, contrary to what was usually done, not attend her confinement. Elizabeth had been quite explicit as to her mother's nervous effusions and perturbations during the birth of Jane's child. As she said, "My duty was to remove my mother from the birthing room so as to prevent further upset to Jane. I will not have her attend me, Anthony. I will not and you must do whatever is necessary to ensure that she does not come here."

As it turned out, Waring had little to do. He could not be sure whether it was Elizabeth's strongly worded request to her father or Mrs. Bennet's ambivalent attitude towards Elizabeth, but his own letter to Mr. Bennet in support of her demand was answered briefly and to the point.

"Be assured," Mr. Bennet had written, "that Mrs. Bennet will not be travelling to Wiltshire until your child is to be christened. The horses cannot be spared for such an initiative."

If Waring was pleased at the absence of Mrs. Bennet and the presence of James Simmons and Mr. Gardiner, he was distinctly unhappy about his own situation. He desperately wished to be with Elizabeth although he knew he was not wanted there by her or the other women who, from the few comments he had overheard, had a very low opinion of the fortitude of men in the birthing room. He was sure that he would have astounded them with his resolve, but it was not to be. He also wished to be doing something, anything to take his mind off his labouring wife. If he could but saddle his horse and ride for an hour or two, he was sure his nerves would settle; but the prospect of being away from the house if something should happened to Elizabeth, or the child was born, was not to be contemplated.

His companions were fine gentlemen and, under normal circumstances, he would have been delighted to share in their company, play a game or two of chess, discuss politics or any other activity that they had enjoyed in the past. Not now! He could no more force his mind to strategize in a game of chess than he could stop breathing. So he walked. Down the halls, through the gardens at least twice – never so far as to not hear if called, checked the stables five times - until the head groom scowled at him the last time; and checked at the door of the birthing room six times - in case they had fresh news.

Finally Mr. Gardiner, taking a firm hold of his arm, made him sit and placed a glass of brandy in his hand.

"Drink this….slowly!" he was commanded. It did not settle him overly much but it tasted fine and the temptation to empty the glass was strong. Mr. Gardiner allowed him a minute or two before saying, "Mrs. Turner was just down while you were out checking the stables…again." Waring made as though to rise from his chair but Gardiner's upraised hand stopped him immediately.

"Before you go rushing off upstairs, let me impart her message. She said to tell you that everything is going well, Your wife is doing excellently and, if things continue on as they are, you should be a father in an hour or so." He paused and grinned at Waring, "She also said that you need not check again as you are causing more trouble than the babe."

Waring huffed, sat back in his chair and took a swallow of brandy. Simmons and Gardiner began asking him questions and discussing some point of interest ….to them. He did not know what replies he made and, if asked, could not state with any certainty what they were talking of. He closed his eyes … and prayed – silently.

He did not know how long he sat there. He was sure he had counted every book in the shelves facing him and, if it had not been so obvious, he might have turned to count those behind him. The door to his study finally opened to allow the entrance of Jane Simmons who smiled at him and nodded.

"You may go to your wife and child now, Anthony."

"Elizabeth is well?" he blurted.

"Indeed she is - and the babe as well! Very well! She is in her bed chamber now. Hurry!"

And he did, only slowly when he reached the door of Elizabeth's room. Cautiously opening the door he entered the room to see Elizabeth, a small bundle in her arms, smiling at him. Her face showed the strains of her ordeal but her eyes were suffused with joy and her smile for him was most welcoming.

"Come meet your son, Anthony."

As he slowly approached her bed, bemused by the sight of his wife and son and bereft of speech, his first words were to seek assurance.

"You are well, Beth?"

Her smile did not diminish, "Tired, but very well." She looked at the babe in her arms.

"David Anthony Waring, may I present you to your father, Anthony Waring." She looked up at Waring, "Shall you hold him?"

He crawled onto the bed and sat beside his wife who carefully passed him his son. He looked down at the red, wrinkled face and thought he had not seen anything more precious. Elizabeth's maid, who had just finished tidying the room, departed and closed the door behind her. Waring remained with Elizabeth and the babe, talking quietly as not to wake him until finally Elizabeth surrendered to her fatigue and drifted off to sleep. Waring bestowed a soft kiss on both his wife and son and returned the latter to his cradle before making his departure.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter 16

 _ **May, 1815 - London**_

Why he was startled, he did not know. It was not as though, if thought about rationally, an encounter with Charles Bingley and his wife on Bond Street was an impossibility. After all, he knew that Bingley much preferred the society of London to any other. It was, he supposed, simply a reflection of the fact that their paths had begun to diverge after Bingley's visit to Pemberley in the summer of '12. Something had been lost in their friendship and neither of them had extended themselves sufficiently to rehabilitate it. The few meetings they had since then had been quite amiable but of a short duration. It was almost three years since that fateful meeting and they had not met more than a handful of times. He was not sure where the burden of responsibility lay, but it seemed to him that his erstwhile friend had chosen to travel without him. He had extended an invitation to Bingley several times in the months that followed that meeting at Pemberley and each time Bingley had put off a visit with one excuse or another. Finally he had stopped inviting. Certainly, Bingley's letter inviting him to be a groomsman at his wedding had indicated an interest in repairing the damage to their friendship. That he and Judith could not attend was perhaps unfortunate and he would not be unwilling to return to their former relationship, if it were possible to do so.

Bingley's countenance now, as he strode towards him with a lady on his arm who Darcy assumed to be his wife, was all that was pleased and amiable and his greeting, equally so. The necessary introductions were made and Judith spoke kindly to the other woman, "Mrs. Bingley, I regret that my husband and I were unable to attend your wedding. Let me once again express my best wishes for your future happiness."

Mrs. Bingley responded briefly with a cool civility and Judith quickly resolved to accord her an equal measure of attention. Bingley seemed unaware of his wife's attitude, a fact that surprised Darcy not at all and, while he was successful in his attempt to end their meeting by claiming a pressing appointment at the modiste, it could not be accomplished before Bingley had extended an invitation to dine the following evening. Feeling all of the unkindness which declining would entail, Judith accepted on their behalf. It would be quite inaccurate to suggest that the thought of dining with the Bingleys ruined the remainder of the day. It did not; however, the prospect led Darcy to visit his club the next afternoon and seek out such gossip about Bingley as might be available. He had not detected any marked affection for her husband on the part of Mrs. Bingley, and her manner towards Judith had quite irritated him.

Before he dressed in preparation for the dinner with the Bingleys, he joined his wife in her sitting room where she was reading. They had been married but six months but this was a routine they had established very quickly. As their duties during the day would frequently not allow for much discourse, they would spend an hour or so together in their private sitting room before dressing for dinner. The time allowed them to review the day's activities of each. So his presence was not unexpected; however, his demeanour was.

Judith looked over at him as he, wearing a pensive expression, sat down beside her.

"What troubles you?"

He knew better than to dissemble and, in truth, he believed he should share his gleanings from his foray into White's that afternoon.

"It's Bingley. I am feeling slightly guilty."

They had talked of this briefly and Judith was not insensible to the fact that her husband had been unable to guide his friend in the matter of his marriage. Her glance invited him to continue.

"It is hardly conclusive but I spoke to Hamilton and Bruton at White's." Judith did not know either gentleman, but assumed they were trustworthy sources of intelligence. "They know Bingley only slightly but have more than a passing acquaintance with the Nelson family – Bingley's wife's family." He pursed his lips, "They seem to believe that the family's coffers are low. The reason is uncertain although Bruton suggests that the Earl is an indifferent estate manager and may have employed a poor steward. It is all speculation, however."

"So Mr. Bingley's money is sufficient to smother the stench of trade?"

Darcy smiled at the asperity of her words. "Indeed. It appears so."

"Poor Mr. Bingley!"

"Hmmm."

"You wrote to caution him, did you not?"

"Yes, but…."

"But nothing! He is a grown man. From what you have told me, he should have learned by now the pitfalls he faced. That he would stumble into such a situation is not your responsibility."

"I know that! It is just…."

"You feel you should have been able to do something to prevent it."

He nodded.

She grasped his hands. "My dear husband, The responsibility is his and you must allow him to accept it." She could see that he was fighting her advice and wondered at it. Her husband was a sensible man and this degree of guilt – for she could think of no better word – over such a minor matter was unusual. "There is more to this than just a regret that he did not follow your advice, is there not?"

Again he nodded – reluctantly.

"Will you not share it with me?"

A silence lasting more than a full minute ensued as Darcy struggled with the desire to unburden himself of a story he had shared with no one. Finally, her patience was rewarded as he began to speak. "I first met Bingley in my last year at Cambridge. He was just entering his first year. Our acquaintance was slight and it was not until he had finished Cambridge and begun to enter society that we met again and became fast friends. He was an amiable gentleman, and could recommend himself to the ladies with considerable ease – an ability that I, on occasion, envied – and was inclined towards falling in love with some frequency. His manners and fortune were such as to make him a very eligible suitor for most women, and I had to caution him often about raising expectations. He had no untoward intentions. He simply did not fully comprehend how his actions were construed." He paused for several moments before resuming, "Then he decided to honour his father's wishes and acquire an estate. I suggested he lease for a year or two before making an irrevocable decision. He agreed and leased an estate in Hertfordshire. There he met Miss…a young lady, very lovely, a gentleman's daughter but with no dowry and a family which, other than herself and her next oldest sister, were much prone to impropriety of behaviour. Bingley fell in love and his behaviour gave rise to expectations of an attachment between them. His sisters and I were concerned for several reasons. His sisters were concerned about her lack of dowry and connections. While these were I admit considerations for me, my chief objection lay in that I could discern no obvious affection for my friend on the young lady's part. I believed her mother to have designs on Bingley and to force her daughter's acceptance should Bingley make an offer. Bingley left Hertfordshire and the young lady. My advice, I believe, was instrumental in his decision." He paused once more and this pause continued for several minutes until Judith prompted him.

"Is there more to this story?"

Darcy nodded. "Yes, indeed there is." He took a deep breath, releasing it slowly, "I learned, several months later, that the young lady was extremely reserved and had hidden her feelings from all but the closest acquaintances. She did, in fact, hold a great affection for Bingley."

"And?"

"I subsequently informed Bingley that my advice may have been flawed, that I had reason to believe Miss…the young lady may have returned his affection. I advised him to return to Hertfordshire." He shook his head. "He did not and I have yet to understand why he did not."

"He said nothing?"

"No; however, he spoke to his sisters, who also had objections to the match and I believe they persuaded him against the notion."

"I fail to see that you have cause to censure your actions, William. You gave advice, corrected an error when you found that you had erred, and advised your friend accordingly. What more could you have done? You are human, you make errors, correct them where possible, and move on. Your friend is accountable for his actions, not you!"

She could see that her words had reached him but had come to know that he would have to resolve this matter himself. There was little more she could do, although a thought struck her. "I admit that I held no great opinion of Mr. Bingley – or his wife – and what you have just related does not improve my estimation of his character in the least. In fact, he appears to me to suffer a severe want of…resolution. To be so at the direction of his sisters does not speak well for him. I am sure that I would not wish to be his wife. You may have done the young lady a great service."

Darcy could see that Judith's advice could not take into account his friend's amiable character and kindness and he could not so easily discount an acquaintance which had been of benefit to him as well as Bingley. Judith appeared to recognize his ambivalence as she said, "Perhaps you should endeavour to meet Mr. Bingley and talk privately with him. I doubt that this dinner will provide an opportunity. Meet with him at White's?"

Darcy arrived early at White's the next afternoon. Judith's suggestion of a private meeting meeting had been astute and Bingley had not been reluctant with regard to the engagement though he probably had little idea of the subject Darcy wished to broach. If the dinner last night had been otherwise, he and Bingley might have enjoyed a private conversation; however, Judith and he had not been the sole guests. Miss Bingley – still unmarried and as unremitting in her attentions to him as ever – had been present, as were the Hursts, Mrs. Bingley's sister and her husband and several couples with whom the Bingleys were acquainted. In all, it had been an uncomfortable evening for both himself and Judith. The Bingley family, apart from Charles, had not been particularly welcoming to his wife and, if it were not for the amiable manners of several of the other guests, he might well have pleaded a headache and left early.

As he imparted to Judith as they rode home afterwards, "I have no wish to further an acquaintance with the Bingleys. Miss Bingley and Charles' wife are intolerable. Their manners to you are totally unacceptable."

"I would not wish to cause you to be estranged from your friend."

Darcy smiled, "I believe I can maintain the friendship. We may extend an occasional dinner invitation to Charles and his wife; however, I am resolved that Miss Bingley will not be included in any invitation."

"Has she always behaved so…improperly, so familiarly, towards you?"

Darcy smiled, "Yes. It was a burden I accepted for Charles' friendship. I had thought she would have changed upon learning of my marriage; but, in this, I was obviously mistaken."

"I feel a certain pity for her." On Miss Bingley, his wife would say no more and their subsequent meetings were mercifully few to the pleasure of both ladies.

His musings were interrupted by Bingley's arrival. Once the business of greetings, ordering drinks and the obvious comments about the previous evening, Darcy broached the object of his interest.

"I was interested to meet Mrs. Bingley, Charles. I remember your letter of last fall and regret both that I was unable to visit you then and that my wife and I were unable to attend your wedding."

"Yes, I recollect that you wrote me. By the time I received your letter I had proposed to Amanda and she had accepted me."

"Ah, I see." So Bingley had not waited to receive his friend's advice. Darcy could not, under the circumstances, fault him for acting on his own understanding. He would not raise his concerns about the match. It was now irrelevant in any event. What was done, was done. He could, he thought, address an issue over which he had longed puzzled.

"Charles, may I ask a rather impertinent question on a matter that is in the past?"

Bingley looked perplexed, "Of course, although I may refuse to answer." The latter was uttered with a smile such as to rob it of any offence.

Darcy pursed his lips as he thought how best to phrase his question and then decided that forthrightness had much to recommend it. There was, after all, little reason to suppose the question would offend his friend.

"I have wondered, for some years now, why you did not return to Netherfield. I had thought you rather attached to Miss Bennet."

The question had clearly surprised Bingley and for a moment or two he gaped like a fish before recovering his composure. "Well, that question…" He shook his head. "I never thought you would ask me that of me."

Darcy waited.

Finally Bingley spoke, "I have no objections to discussing it. If you remember, I was quite uncertain as to my wishes. I spoke to Caroline and to Louisa. Both assured me that you were quite wrong in your suppositions and that their conversations with Miss Bennet and her mother had convinced them of Miss Bennet's indifference. That she might well have accepted me – most likely would have done so – but for reasons of prudence. Her family's situation was, as you know, rather precarious."

Darcy was struck silent in amazement and fought - successfully - the urge to blurt, "You consider Miss Bingley's understanding superior to Miss Bennet's sister on this matter?" He shook his head once more. What was done, was done! There was no point to pursuing the matter further. He no longer wondered at his friend's easy acceptance of his sister's advice in respect of courting Lady Amanda and only wondered at his future happiness. He wondered if his friend would solicit his advice in the future and how, should it be requested, how he might respond. It did appear that Bingley had chosen to act on his own and this was a result that should not be gainsaid.

As he related the matter to his wife later that afternoon, he realized that his friendship with Bingley had deteriorated to the point where he no longer wished to encourage as close an acquaintance as existed in the past. He had always esteemed Bingley as a man of sense and intelligence and he had now to question that estimation. He regretted the loss of the friendship that once existed but Bingley had changed too much – as had he himself – to make a close friendship enjoyable. Judith's reaction also gave pause for thought. It was clear that she held Bingley in rather low respect and saw little of worth in him. It was a harsh assessment, he thought, and he was unsure whether his own was too charitable.

 _ **September, 1815 – Pemberley, Derbyshire**_

John Tucker's condition was every bit as worrisome as Mr. Grant had stated. A leg, broken in two places, just as the harvest was ready to be brought in was, for the Tucker family, a problem of major proportions. Unfortunately, the man had no sons older than ten years to take on the responsibility. Fortunately, the local physician had assured them that the leg had been set well and with proper care Tucker should be walking by Christmas.

A message outlining the problem had been sent to Mr. Grant that very morning and he and Darcy had immediately ridden to visit the family and assess the situation at first hand. As they rode they discussed various solutions and by the time they arrived had settled the matter between themselves. They had no reason to expect Tucker to object and in this supposition they were proved correct. John Tucker was pleased and grateful to have an experienced man, son of a neighbouring tenant farmer whom he knew well, hired at Darcy's expense to bring in the harvest.

Pleased that the matter had been so happily resolved, Darcy was persuaded by Mr. Grant to stop at the Inn in Kympton for a quick glass of ale. He was reluctant to tarry overlong as Judith's time was approaching but she and the midwife were convinced that the it would not occur for another week. His presence in the Inn could not go unnoticed and several men approached him to discuss local problems and before he was aware of the passing time, he had been there for almost two hours. Realizing this, he made his excuses and was shortly riding back alone to Pemberley – Mr. Grant having other business to transact in Kympton. Darcy was less than a half hour away when he espied a rider coming towards him and pressing his horse quite hard.

"Mr. Darcy!"

The urgency in the voice of Adams, a Pemberley groom, immediately brought to mind Judith and the possibility of her labour beginning. It was all he could do not to force his horse into a gallop in his haste to return to her side.

"Adams, What is the matter?" Darcy shouted, "Is it Mrs. Darcy?"

Adams slowed his mount and turned it to ride in the direction of Pemberley alongside Darcy.

"Mrs. Reynolds sent me, sir. She said to tell you that there is no urgency but that the Mistress has started to birth the child. The mid-wife has been called and is expected shortly."

Darcy nodded, "Thank you Adams."

He urged his horse into a faster pace, eager to be home and see how his wife was faring.

He arrived a quarter hour later and, despite his rather dishevelled and dusty appearance, made his way directly to the birthing room. If he was surprised to see Judith walking down the hall on the arm of Georgiana, he concealed it well. With a curt nod to his sister along with a brief smile, he relieved her of the responsibility of supporting Judith who turned to him with a restrained smile, "I am glad you have returned."

"I admit this has caught me by surprise, Judith. I thought we had more time."

"As did I; however, Mrs. Reynolds has assured me that when the baby decides it is time to be born, our plans are for naught."

"Has the midwife arrived?"

"Her note said that she would be here within the hour."

"So long?"

"She was attending another birth but would delay no longer than necessary."

Darcy began to be concerned. "What if she should not arrive soon?"

Judith grimaced and groaned as she hunched over for a few seconds. Once she had straightened herself upright, she replied, "Mrs. Reynolds assures me that, given the time between my pains, that it should be quite some time before our child is born."

Within an hour the midwife did bustle in and, approving of what she saw, turned her attention to preparing the birthing room. Some little time later, Mr. and Mrs. Farrell, who had left Oswestry the previous day as planned, had arrived expecting their daughter's labour to begin a week hence. Mrs. Farrell was alarmed that her daughter's labour had started already but was readily assured by the midwife and Judith that everything was proceeding as it should. Not long after Mrs. Farrell's arrival, Darcy was banished to his study to allow, as Mrs. Farrell put it succinctly, "Women to handle women's business."

Mrs. Reynolds was an accurate prognosticator. A labour that had started around the noon hour, did not reach its conclusion until the early hours of the next morning. Mr. Farrell was Darcy's only company and, as much as he liked the elder gentleman, Darcy could not find much distraction in his company. He read, he paced, he dozed, he nibbled on food and he drank (moderately) in an almost endless cycle, willing the time to pass. Eventually it did and it had not yet reached dawn when Georgiana finally pushed open the door of his study and, catching Darcy's eye, smiled and nodded.

He could never remember exactly how he reached Judith's chambers. When he knocked, an extremely exhausted Mrs. Farrell opened the door and beckoned him in, a finger to her lips signalling a need for silence. He stepped to the bed to see Judith sleeping soundly, her hair still damp with sweat. By her lay a small bundle which he picked up with caution. Mrs. Farrell was suddenly by his side. "Your daughter, Mr. Darcy. Have you and Judith decided on a name?"

He gave her a big smile, nodded and then moved the blanket away from the babe's face. Looking down at the wrinkled, red face, he murmured, "Welcome to Pemberley, Ann-Marie Elizabeth Darcy."

 _ **October - Oaksley Manor, Wiltshire**_

The day promised to be unseasonably warm and the absence of rain for the best part of a week had left the ground dry. Elizabeth's rambles had not taken her far when she reached her objective, a rough bench sheltered amongst a small grove of aspens, their remaining leaves shaking in the breeze. The day was too delightful to spend it in her room. Settling herself on the bench, she opened the letter from Charlotte and began.

 _Hunsford, near Westerham, Kent_

 _October 13, 1815_

 _Dear Lizzy,_

 _I am well. Let me assure you of that at once. It has, I admit, been a most distressing summer. My first confinement for William was so remarkably easy that I was not prepared for such a difficult second one. I will spare you the details but suffice it to say that I was brought low with a fever after the birth. Mama feared for my life and it is only in the past month that I have found the energy to resume my normal duties. I was blessed that Mama came and could remain with me throughout._

 _I am overjoyed at the news that you have a son. I trust that your confinement was not too arduous and I have little doubt that the presence of Jane and your aunt did much to ease you during this time. I am glad that you are both well and only regret that I am unable to see you and your child and show you my own. Perhaps we could arrange to visit in Hertfordshire at the same time._

 _Mama has only recently returned to Meryton. Maria is to be married and her wedding must be planned. She is to marry George Langley who owns a shop in Meryton. It will, I believe, be a comfort to Mama to have a daughter settled so near. Your mother will, I am sure, be informed with of the details of the wedding preparations and my mother's satisfaction. She visits but rarely as you know but such news as this must be imparted. I apologize in advance but there is little I can do to moderate my mother's profusions._

Elizabeth chuckled. her mother might welcome Lady Lucas under most circumstances but such news as this would surely cause a new bout of palpitations. She read on.

 _I will not bore you with a mother's effusions of her son's doings. Just yesterday he began to tell me a story which he had imagined. It was some odd combination of what he remembered from his father's reading of the Scriptures and the fairy tales that I have read him. It was a most interesting and oddly wild imagining. I am sure if Lady Catherine had heard it, she would have rebuked him severely. I could only laugh and take pleasure in it. You would, I know, have been charmed and would have encouraged his efforts. I could wish you to meet him. But I fear that may take some time as Mr. Collins' distaste for your family has not lessened at all._

Elizabeth laughed. She could not envy her friend. Only twelve months ago she would have done so – not her husband, for a surety - but her son, a child of her own. And now she need not harbour such feelings. Her own husband was Mr. Collins' superior in every respect, and their son who was now over four months old, a delight for them both.

 _It seems that the estrangement between Mr. Darcy and her ladyship might be repaired. Lady Catherine was in receipt of a letter from her brother, Lord Matlock, that Mrs. Darcy was delivered of a daughter in early September. Lady Catherine travelled to Pemberley to attend the christening and, I doubt not, to provide such advice as a young mother might require. She was most disturbed that Mr. Darcy's wife failed in her duty to provide an heir, however, I believe she will be unlikely to say as much to her nephew or his wife. She has felt quite keenly the loss of his attentions. I have spoken little to Miss de Bourgh on this matter, but I believe she also wished to see her cousin. Unfortunately, her health did not permit her to accompany her mother to Pemberley and she is most unhappy about it. I dare say we shall see Mr. Darcy and his wife visit Rosings Park next spring._

 _The child has been named Ann-Marie Elizabeth Darcy. Apparently Mrs. Darcy's mother is named Marie and they thought to honour both their mothers. I wonder at the name of Elizabeth._

Her friend's letter had inadvertently made Elizabeth even more aware of the degree to which her own opinions had moderated on the subject of marriage. Not that she would ever admit as much to Charlotte! Her friend would never allow her to forget it. She would, she knew, never be mercenary like Charlotte – who preferred to think of herself as practical – but the romantic young girl who believed that only the deepest love would induce her into matrimony had been changed by circumstances into one who had accepted affection and esteem as the basis for her marriage. Love, she thought, might grow. Certainly her husband had a stronger claim on her affections now than when they married. The ties of a child and the strong physical attraction between them had buttressed those of respect and esteem. She read the letter once more and also found herself wondering at the middle name of the Darcy's child. Surely not!

 _ **November, 1815 – Pemberley, Derbyshire**_

Darcy read the newspaper carefully. The situation in Parliament was particularly worrisome. As a landowner his obvious loyalties lay with those sponsoring the Corn Laws. His income, after all, depended greatly on the produce of the Pemberley farms; yet some part of him, that cold, logical part of his brain that could not help but look into the future was worried. He wondered if his fellow landowners were like the proverbial little Dutch boy who stuck his finger in the dyke. Were they attempting to hold back the future; and how would events treat them, should they be unsuccessful? He was convinced that failure was not only possible but distinctly likely. If asked to explain his reasoning, he doubted he could do so, but instinct told him that he was right, that his worries were not without foundation. How to address the matter, he could not determine, but to remain passive seemed…unwise.

As he was mulling over the problem, his mind no longer fixated on the newspaper, Mr. Harris entered with the day's post. Several letters for his wife were directed to her study for her later perusal, and his business correspondence directed to his study. A number of pieces of personal mail remained. Laying aside his paper, he reviewed the various letters. Two were from old friends who he would normally see when in town. Judith's recovery and their reluctance to travel with a very young infant persuaded them to avoid the fall season in London and remain at Pemberley. Judith had decided, against the dictates of society, to not hire a wet-nurse for their daughter and took upon herself the task of nursing. Mrs. Reynolds had been a little scandalized at first but was soon persuaded to support her mistress. Darcy had been more opposed and it had only been Judith's conviction that had carried the argument. Her own mother had nursed her and had assured her that, first, it could be done and second, that it should be done, for reasons that would become clear when she did so. In truth, Darcy had to agree with Mrs. Farrell. It always affected him deeply to see his daughter at her mother's breast and Judith had told him, and he could hardly disagree, that, for her, the experience strengthened the bond with her child. It apparently also had an extra benefit, as Judith's courses had yet to return and they could be intimate again without fear of starting a new babe before Judith's body had recovered fully from the first.

The letters from his friends expressed their concerns about his absence. He would have to write with explanations. One letter was from his sister, another from his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam and the last from his uncle, the Earl of Matlock. Georgiana's letter was read first. It contained little except inquiries after Judith and her niece until he came to a mention of Lady Catherine.

 _You will not be pleased to learn that Lady Catherine made a short visit to London; mainly, I suspect, because you were at Pemberley. I wish that I could say that her manners towards you and Judith have improved but they remain much as they were at my niece's christening – cold civility at best and, when she believes herself secure in her company, less than that. I had the misfortune to overhear some of her comments. I did not hesitate to inform my Aunt Matlock of her behaviour; and my uncle, I was told later, took Aunt Catherine in hand and chastised her for speaking to disparage the Darcy name. I am telling you this now so that you may decide how to proceed. For myself, I am angered enough to have no wish to be in my Aunt Catherine's company in the future. I will, however, leave it in your hands how to proceed._

The following paragraph caught his interest as it was the first time that he could remember his sister commenting favourably upon a gentleman.

 _On a happier note, the season is going well, I believe. I have been introduced to several new gentlemen and one who claims a small acquaintance with you. Mr. Henry Fellowes is, I gather the younger brother of Mr. Allen Fellowes who attended Cambridge at the same time as you. I was introduced to him last spring at Almack's and some weeks later we met again at the _ Ball. He is an excellent dancer and I quite enjoyed his conversation. Richard also met and talked with him and I am sure that he will write you shortly if he has not already done so. You see, Mr. Fellowes – Mr. Henry Fellowes, to be precise – has asked to call on me. And I have consented, as has Richard._

 _I think you will like him, Brother. He is very amiable and Richard appears to be impressed by him. He is the second son of a landed gentleman who has several large estates in Cornwall. His brother has inherited the family estate but Mr. Fellowes has taken on the management of a largish estate and has been its Master for several years. Richard will, I am sure, provide more particulars. I like Mr. Fellowes quite well and confess that I am looking forward to knowing him better._

Her subsequent reference to meeting Bingley and his wife in company with Miss Bingley brought a smile to his face. Apparently Miss Bingley's attempts to ingratiate herself with the Darcy familyhad not ceased. It was fortunate that Georgiana liked Miss Bingley and Bingley's wife as little a he did. That connection was not one that either of them could wish to encourage.

Darcy was about to open Richard's letter when the door to the library opened and his wife entered. He put the letter aside and rose to assist her to sit before moving to fix a cup of tea for her. A quick kiss after he placed the cup in front of her was his reward and he quickly settled himself once more in his arm chair. He had been occupied with estate business for much of the day and it was only now, an hour or so before dinner, that they had found themselves in company since he rose from his bed in the morning.

"Ann-Marie is settled?"

"Fed and sleeping. I doubt her eyes stayed open more than two minutes before she went to sleep."

"I have received a letter from Georgie you might wish to read."

He passed her the letter as she murmured her interest and then opened Richard's letter which he expected to contain some news of considerable interest. In this he was not disappointed. He scanned the beginning quickly but soon found he had much to to ponder.

 _I had no expectations that Georgiana's season would progress any different than the previous until she and I encountered a young gentleman, Mr. Henry Fellowes, whilst walking one morning in Hyde Park a day or two after we arrived in town. Mr. Fellowes is brother to an acquaintance of yours from Cambridge. Fellowes is about five and twenty and, from what I can gather from various sources at White's, this is the first year he has participated in the season to any extent._

 _Georgiana has been a little sly with us, I believe, particularly if her reaction to meeting Mr. Fellowes is an indication. She was all blushes and demureness such as I have not seen with any other gentleman. It was, in truth, amusing to watch. But I digress. Mr. Fellowes walked with us for some time before taking his departure; however, before doing so, he asked to call on me. We arranged to meet at White's that afternoon which he seemed to find preferable than Severn House where Georgiana and I are residing._

 _I found out quite soon when I met with Mr. Fellowes the reasons for his avoidance of Severn House. It appears that he made Georgiana's acquaintance last June. He was in town attending to some business and was introduced to her by some friends while attending a play at the Theatre Royale. He called on her at Severn House a day or two later and received enough encouragement, he thought, from my cousin to call again. It appears that following his second call, my mother took it upon herself to indicate her displeasure at his attentions to her niece. Mr. Fellowes felt that he could no longer call and while meeting her on one or two subsequent occasions, did not pursue his interest. You can imagine my reaction. There is nothing about the young man that should incite such action by my mother and truly she exceeds her responsibility in doing so. I made Mr. Fellowes aware that guardianship of Georgiana resided with you and myself – a fact of which he obviously was unaware – and that neither of us would presume to discourage the attentions of a respectable gentleman._

 _With this assurance, Mr. Fellowes outlined his circumstances and requested permission to call on Georgiana. My approval was given immediately. I apologize for not acquainting you sooner on the matter but I wished to see how things developed before exciting your interest._

 _I have spoken to several gentlemen who know the family well – they are from Cornwall and do not appear inclined to spend much time in London. For that I can hardly fault them. I have a cousin who is similarly inclined. From what I can determine, the family is sound both financially and in character. Mr. Fellowes is the younger of the two sons and has three sisters all of whom are respectably, although not lavishly, dowered. Your friend apparently married several years ago, already has a small family and has undertaken the management of the family's principal estate. The younger Mr. Fellowes, upon completing his terms at Cambridge, spent a year at his brother's side learning the duties of an estate and then was given the responsibility of the family's second estate which he is to inherit. It is not excessively large but I am given to believe it provides an income of four or five thousand per annum. Mr. Fellowes will inherit the estate upon his father's passing although I am led to believe that the senior Mr. Fellowes is in excellent health. Nonetheless, his son should be well able to support a wife, although I have reason to believe that he was not actually in search of one when he came to London last spring._

 _Mr. Fellowes showed a marked interest in Georgie upon meeting her and their subsequent meetings – of which there have been more than a few – appear to have fixed his interest more strongly. My father is not particularly happy about his intentions. I suspect that Mr. Fellowes' want of connections is an impediment in my father's eyes. And, while Mr. Fellowes' income is respectable, there are gentlemen with more. Having said that, Georgie is giving signs, discretely and perhaps not obvious to anyone less familiar with her, that she returns Mr. Fellowes' interest. My father is not well pleased but since I am her guardian, he is not in a position to dispute the matter strongly. A subtle hint that I might remove Georgie to Darcy House settled the matter thoroughly to my satisfaction. Nonetheless, I suspect he will write you urging that a more prestigious match be arranged for Georgie. I know your opinions too well to worry on that score._

 _Mr. Fellowes has called on Georgie quite regularly and, based on his behaviour, I am shortly expecting a request for a courtship. I am inclined to grant it and would go so far as to suggest that he be invited to Pemberley over Christmas that you may get to know him, as well as allow the courtship to proceed. I believe Georgie will advise you that she plans to extend her stay in London for an extra fortnight. She asked, and received, my approval to do so. Please advise me as to your thoughts on the matter. It is possibly that Mr. Fellowes may ask for a courtship before Georgiana leaves for Pemberley. If so, I will give my approval and require him to seek yours. We will deal with this as it arises._

 _On a less happy note, our Aunt Catherine has unaccountably decided to be a pain in the a_ for some unknown reason. She was, for her, well-behaved and tolerably civil at the christening – although I have to admire your wife's forbearance. Whatever control our aunt was exercising then seems to have slipped once the outskirts of London were reached. A conversation between our aunt and several of her cronies was overheard by Georgie. Fortunately, she reported it immediately to my mother who made my father and myself aware of it. Father was not well pleased by the necessity of having to do so but he took her in hand – again – to make it clear that her slanders are damaging the Darcy name and, by association, the Fitzwilliam name. I really cannot account for our aunt's behaviour. She is not totally bereft of sense but her actions would certainly lead any reasonable person to believe otherwise. In any event, it appears that, for now, our aunt has been silenced. We can only pray that it continues._

Darcy laid his cousin's letter aside and was about to open his uncle's when Judith sighed as she dropped Georgiana's letter on the table.

"I am happy for Georgiana. This Mr. Fellowes appears promising. I believe he is the first gentleman that she has spoken kindly of."

"Read Richard's letter. He is equally enthused and much more forthcoming."

He turned his attention once more to the letter from his uncle. It warranted no more than the briefest perusal. He would answer politely, thank his uncle for commanding Lady Catherine's silence and compliance – although from the tone of the letter his uncle was equally grieved with his sister for exhibiting such improper behaviour as he was with his nephew's wife on the grounds that, if she had not married his nephew, it would not have been necessary to rebuke Lady Catherine. His uncle was, he knew, wilfully blind to the fact that his sister would have been equally displeased and behaved just as badly with any woman that her nephew married - other than her daughter, Anne.

The Earl's strictures about Georgiana's marriage prospects were equally misguided. To suppose that Darcy would require his sister to marry for connections which would improve the importance of the Fitzwilliam family, completely overlooked that she was a Darcy and that, while associated by ties of blood to the Fitzwilliams, he, Fitzwilliam Darcy, was head of the Darcy family. If his sister's affections were engaged and returned in equal measure by a gentleman with an income sufficient to support her decently, he would not oppose the match. Neither, he was sure, would Richard. His uncle's wishes and desires had no bearing on the matter, although he would not insult him by saying as much explicitly.

"What does the Earl say?"

"Nothing of any importance. He is upset with his sister for her behaviour and wishes to advise that Georgiana can and should be attempting to make a more advantageous match than Mr. Fellowes."

Judith regarded him closely. He was certain that she was aware that the letter contained more than he had revealed, particularly since he did not offer to let her read the letter itself. She obviously thought it unnecessary to pursue it further and waved Richard's letter in front of her.

"Richard seems quite impressed by Mr. Fellowes."

"He does, indeed." Darcy was thoughtful, "I must admit I am as well, from the little that we know of him. It amazes me that Georgiana's first serious suitor did not present himself until her second season."

Judith considered this observation for several moments before venturing, "Now that I think on the matter, she received the usual number of callers but she…she welcomed none of them to my knowledge. She was not dismissive exactly, just…uninterested perhaps."

"She does not appear disinterested now. I am a little surprised that she had not mentioned Mr. Fellowes previously."

"She may have been uncertain of his interest and reluctant to suggest that hers had been engaged." She waved the letter at him, "Shall we invite Mr. Fellowes to Pemberley for Christmas?"

"I believe we should, Judith. Perhaps he can stay for our Twelfth Night Ball?"

Judith nodded, "I would wish to invite a few more so that the poor man does not feel…too much under inspection."

Darcy assented and, after some discussion, two other couples and their children were to be invited to visit Pemberley. As Darcy rose from the table with thoughts of going to his study to prepare the necessary letters to his sister, cousin and uncle, he was stopped by Judith's hand on his arm.

"I quite missed you when I woke this morning to find you gone. I…ah, was rather hoping for the comfort of your arms."

Darcy grinned delightedly. While he had visited her bed the previous night, he was unsure how welcome his presence was. Judith appeared quite tired and her participation had lacked enthusiasm. That she now wished for his attentions was welcome. Whether the invitation indicated guilt for the previous night's lack of interest or a reflection of her own interest, he could not say and he was not of a mind to question her motives.

"You were sleeping too soundly and too much in need of the rest for me to waken you as I would wish; however, I am now not otherwise engaged and my arms are quite at your disposal."

"So, if I were to retire to my room, could I expect my husband to comfort me there?"

"I believe, madam, you may count on it."

The letters were written later that evening as neither of the Darcys was seen downstairs for several hours.


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter 17**

 **January 1816 – Pemberley, Derbyshire**

Richard Fitzwilliam anticipated that the next few hours would be extremely entertaining. He had invited himself to an interview which he, as Georgie's other guardian, was perfectly justified in attending. It was quite unnecessary, of course. Neither Darcy nor he held any animus against the young man they were expecting. They both liked and respected him. That did not mean, however, that they planned to treat his suit casually, nor did it mean that they were reluctant in any way to extract the full measure of enjoyment from his predicament. And, aside from Georgiana's suitor, Richard fully anticipated to have an extra source of amusement – Darcy himself.

The knock on the study door was not unexpected. They had been warned by Judith that they would be approached this morning and when; they had sequestered themselves in the study in anticipation. The matter had been thoroughly discussed in Judith's presence the night before and the decision made. She was not altogether pleased with their belief that they had an obligation to make it a memorable ordeal for Georgiana's suitor. Her exasperated, "Men!" only drew a slight grin from Darcy. Richard pretended that he did not hear.

With Darcy's firm "Enter," the door opened and the footman, whose blank expression was more telling than a grin could possibly be, showed an obviously nervous Henry Fellowes into the room. Darcy greeted him with his "Master of Pemberley" mien. Gone was the generally amiable host that Fellowes had known for the past month. Richard attempted to school his features to fit a "commanding Officer" persona and nodded briskly to Fellowes as Darcy directed him to a chair in front of his imposing desk. The Colonel had moved a chair to the side of the desk but somewhat removed so that both Darcy and he were facing Fellowes directly.

"Tea or Coffee?" It was too early for port or a brandy although, from Fellowes' demeanour, he would welcome either. Darcy doubted tea or coffee would help.

"No, but thank you."

"You wished to speak with us?"

"Ah…yes… well you see…"

Darcy and his cousin remained silent. Their fixed gazes, stern countenances and silence increased Mr. Fellowes' disquiet.

"You must know why I asked for this interview." he blurted.

"Perhaps…and perhaps not." rejoined Darcy.

Fellowes took a deep breath, in an obvious attempt to calm his nerves, and finally, through rather strangled vocal chords, said, "I am…I have asked your sister to marry me and she has accepted. I…we wish for your consent and blessing."

Darcy and Colonel Fitzwilliam regarded him silently for another few moments and then the Colonel asked, "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why do you wish to marry my cousin and why should we agree to it?"

Fellowes looked rather dumbfounded. Darcy doubted he had expected any such questions. It took him a few seconds to collect his thoughts before replying, "Why do I wish to marry Georgiana?"

"Yes…you have not known each other for very long."

He nodded in reluctant agreement, "That is so. But I had not known her a week before I believed she was the woman I wished by my side for the rest of my life. I had not known her a month before I knew that I wished to make it one of my life's goals to make her happy…to please her…to protect her."

Darcy and Fitzwilliam remained silent, their gazes fixed resolutely on his face. He grew increasingly uncomfortable under their combined gaze, unsure what else he was expected to say.

Finally Darcy responded, "Georgiana is as dear to me as if she were my own daughter. I am in no hurry to see her leave."

Fellowes did not know how to respond to this comment and, after an extended pause, finally said, "I can well understand your feelings. Miss Darcy's respect for you...for you both has been very obvious." He cleared his throat, "Might I suggest that you look upon it as gaining a brother rather than losing a sister. While we will live in Cornwall, that will not preclude frequent visits."

Fitzwilliam entered the conversation, "Your ability to provide for her seems rather suspect. Do you not live on your father's sufferance?"

Fellowes looked relieved at this question.

"I had not thought to discuss this now but my father has agreed to settle Amberclose on me when I marry. It will be part of the settlement." He paused, "I have had my solicitor draw up a draft of the Settlement and brought it with me."

Darcy's eyebrows rose. This he had not expected. It spoke well of Fellowes that his father would repose such confidence in him as to deed the estate immediately. He nodded slowly. He could see no further purpose to the discussion and looked at his cousin who nodded. He said, and perhaps only Colonel Fitzwilliam, who knew him so well, could detect the touch of sadness in his eyes, "I believe you have answered our questions. You have our consent and blessing."

"But you have not…I have not informed you of my circumstances. I can afford to provide well for Georgiana. My home is not Pemberley but it is quite large and well fitted, I assure you."

Darcy and his cousin smiled at him and Fitzwilliam took upon himself the office of responding, "We are aware of your circumstances. I did a rather thorough investigation before I left London."

Darcy interjected, "You would not have been invited here had we any doubts about your situation."

Fellowes took some papers from his coat. "I have prepared a draft of the Settlement papers. My father has reviewed and approved them. I do not know Georgiana's circumstances beyond what is rumoured so amendments will be required. If you will note, I propose that…"

Darcy interrupted, "Richard and I will review the settlement later. There is something that I wish to discuss first."

Fellowes looked puzzled but sat back in his chair.

"You and Georgiana have not known each other for very long," stated Darcy, "and this is a concern to me and Mrs Darcy and Richard."

Colonel Fitzwilliam thought it rather hypocritical of Darcy to make such an objection given the speed of his own marriage; however, since he and Judith had been older at the time, he was inclined to not tease him about it.

Fellowes remained silent, waiting for Darcy to drop the other shoe, which he then did.

"Georgiana will not be twenty until May. We would not wish for her to be married before then. This should allow you both sufficient time to learn more of the other."

Georgiana, he suspected, would not be excessively pleased with such a protracted engagement – in this supposition he was proven correct. When informed of her brother's decision – and it was his alone since Judith and Fitzwilliam would have agreed to an earlier wedding – she was quite irritated and made her displeasure known to everyone - more than once - to no avail. Darcy remained obdurate.

Fellowes, having no options, agreed. This was now Fitzwilliam's moment and he was not slow to seize it.

"Now that the trivial aspects have been settled," he said in his most jovial voice, "We have now only to settle where the marriage will take place." He hurried on before Darcy could grasp control of the subject. "I believe Georgie should be married in London, at St. Georges perhaps, and I know my mother would delight in organizing the wedding."

Fitzwilliam could see Darcy's face pale and he sputtered, "No! …I…"

Fitzwilliam overrode his objections, "Mother will make it the highlight of the season. Why there will be hundreds come to celebrate the wedding." It took all of Fitzwilliam's self-control to avoid laughing at the dismay on his cousin's face.

Fellowes hardly knew where to look. Fitzwilliam could not claim to know him well but he, Georgiana and Darcy were much alike in their distaste for public displays. Such a ceremony as had been proposed would greatly discomfort the Darcy siblings and be uncomfortable for Fellowes. Fitzwilliam, of course, was not serious in this proposal but the opportunity to tweak his cousin was too good to ignore and he was resolved to continue to press his case for some while yet.

Fitzwilliam appeared prepared to elaborate further on his fictitious plans for Georgiana's wedding when a knock sounded on the door and Judith and Georgiana ushered themselves in.

"We had begun to wonder what was taking place in here. Surely the matter is settled?" stated Judith.

"Indeed it is," said Darcy glaring at Fitzwilliam, "We were just discussing the wedding itself."

Fitzwilliam spoke quickly, before he could continue, and outlined his thoughts in glorious detail sparing no effort to describe the number of people to be invited, the lavish dinners and parties that the betrothed couple and their families must attend. He pretended to take no notice of the reaction of Georgiana and her brother and was happily exercising his gift for exaggeration when he was rudely interrupted, but ably assisted by his cousin's wife.

"Richard, we should arrange for an Engagement Ball as well. Perhaps the Prince Regent could be invited." offered Judith.

Fitzwilliam's attempt to assert the seriousness of the plans propounded was finally dismissed and, in truth, he was struggling to mask his laughter – a struggle which was shortly relinquished. His cousins were quite rude in their comments to him thereafter and poor Fellowes sat rather bemused in the midst of the uncharacteristic merriment.

Finally Judith turned to Georgiana, "A wedding here at Pemberley with family and close friends is, I would hazard, your preference?"

Georgiana nodded and so it was to be. On May 12, 1816, her twentieth birthday, Georgiana would wed Henry Fellowes.

The Countess Matlock and Lady Catherine were not at all pleased about any of the particulars – their exclusion from the preparations and Georgiana's choice of a husband both appeared to excite equal quantities of censure which they did not hesitate to express. The Earl certainly made his displeasure with the marriage known; but, to his credit, Darcy was impervious to all of their importuning until finally exasperated beyond measure advised them all that, in light of their objections, he would not be insulted should they choose not to attend the wedding. Since Fitzwilliam had no occasion to be in company with his parents or his aunt for some months due to his military duties, it was some time before he learned that they had chosen to put aside their supposed grievances in the interest of family solidarity.

Georgiana was married on the day established. It was as lovely a ceremony as could be wished for and the newlywed couple as happy as one might expect. For Fitzwilliam, and more so for Darcy, it was the end of a responsibility which tied together the two of them even more closely than would otherwise have been the case. With the loss of Georgiana's company, which Fitzwilliam had enjoyed quite frequently, he found himself thinking more seriously about his own unmarried state.

 **January 1816 – Gracechurch Street, London**

Elizabeth left the nursery. Her son was finally settled for the night and she could, after the rigours of the day, complete her letter to Charlotte. She looked in on her husband, quietly ensconced with Mr. Gardiner in the library, both armed with solitude, a book and a decanter of port to be shared, before continuing on to the sitting room which, for the first time in weeks, was bereft of company. Taking up the letter, she read what had been written, before adding the final paragraph.

 _Gracechurch Street, London,_

 _January 13, 1816_

 _Dear Charlotte,_

 _I am sure that your good mother has already made you aware of the latest news pertaining to my family. It most likely accompanies this letter into Kent. My sister Kitty – or Catherine as she has insisted on being called lately – is to marry. We are all prodigiously pleased with her prospective husband. He is the captain of a ship in which my uncle has a share. He and my sister met almost a year ago and an attraction appeared to develop quickly between them; however, his employment has been such as to prevent him being much in town until recently._

 _He returned about two months past and their courtship proceeded with great rapidity. Neither was inclined to tarry and within three weeks of his return, they were engaged. Unfortunately, the exigencies of his profession will require an extended engagement period as he was required to return to sea unexpectedly. It now appears that they will not wed until June when he returns. I quite like him. Mr. Stevens is a most decisive man; perhaps a tribute to his profession and a trait that will, I hope, serve Kitty – No! Catherine (I will remember! I will!) – quite well, I am sure._

 _Catherine (See – I remembered!) will stay with the Gardiners until he returns. I had assumed she would be looking into acquiring a house, perhaps in Bristol where Mr. Stevens mainly lives. He is so frequently at sea that he has not acquired permanent quarters, a deficiency I had expected Catherine to correct. However, she has overset me completely. She is to travel with her husband after they marry. At sea! I can scarcely encompass the thought but she is, it appears, quite looking forward to it. Her husband would, of necessity, be gone for some five or six months and she was not willing to suffer such a separation. I believe Mr. Stevens required little persuasion to accede to her wishes._

 _Mr. Stevens acquainted us, before he sailed, with his living quarters aboard the ship which he will share with Catherine. (I called it a 'boat' and was severely chastised for doing so.) I cannot imagine my sister living in such cramped quarters, although I admit that everything was fitted up so as to make the best use of the space available. Catherine, however, is quite sanguine about the whole business and, since it is her wish, I can only hide my misgivings and wish them both well._

 _I have little other news to share. My son grows apace and his first tentative efforts to explore his surroundings have become a source of great amusement to my husband, myself and the servants at Oaksley Manor. He is quite the favourite of everyone and, even at the young age of six months, has learned how to charm one and all. I fear for the hearts of the ladies when he grows to manhood._

 _Anthony and I are off to visit Longbourn for a fortnight before returning home. I will, I hope, be able to call on your mother while there and express, once more, my appreciation for her willingness to act as the post for my letters to you. I will deliver this letter to her by hand. I understand that your sister and her husband are established in Meryton. It is somewhat hard to believe that little Maria is the mother of two children. From what you have written, she appears quite happy in her situation and I am very pleased for her._

 _The Simmonses are well and Jane is increasing once more. The babe is expected in about six months. My father and mother continue quite well and Mary is very much involved in their care. As time passes it would seem that Mary is resigned to her situation. I doubt she has time for a suitor should one appear with her care of our parents and the duties attached to the house and estate. My husband and I and Mr. Simmons visit Longbourn regularly and correspond with the steward to provide direction but much remains Mary's burden._

 _I will not plague you with my fruitless desire for you to visit me here at Oaksley Manor; but should your husband relent on his dictates, I would have you write me directly and our coach will be at your doorstep immediately to bring you and your children here._

 _Your friend,_

 _Elizabeth W._

 **April 1816 – Hunsford, Kent**

Charlotte Collins was just returning from a visit to a parishioner in Hunsford when she spied a couple approaching the parsonage down the lane from Rosings Park. The Darcys had arrived a week ago and were expected to stay for only a fortnight as Mr. Darcy's sister was to be married in a month's time. She had met Mrs. Darcy for the first time the past night when she and Mr. Collins had been invited to dine at Rosings Park. For them to call on her now was a considerable kindness and she took comfort that her husband was attending Lady Catherine at the moment. The Darcys' call at this time was, she thought, perhaps not accidental. She hurried her pace and arrived at her door at the same time as her guests. Welcoming them into her best parlour, she apologized for not being prepared to receive them.

Mrs. Darcy immediately disclaimed any discomfort.

"I know too well the duties attached to a rector's life. I suspect that your parishioner was not eager to release you once she had your company."

"I fear you are correct. I had told my husband that I would be back before three but Mrs. Adams was so lonely it was hard to leave her when I wished.'

The maid interrupted their conversation by bringing in the tea and cakes and, after everyone had been served, the usual civilities were exchanged. Having received, only a week previous, a letter from Elizabeth, Charlotte thought to communicate the most important news that it contained.

"I heard from my friend Elizabeth, Elizabeth Bennet that was, just last week. I was pleased to learn that she and her new son are doing well." She grimaced, "It is one of my great regrets that I cannot visit her. I have not seen her for…" she thought for a moment, "why it is four years now."

Mrs. Darcy searching her memory could not recall a reason that would prevent a visit. "Is your friend settled too far to visit?"

"No. No. She lives in Wiltshire. I daresay one could reach there in two easy days of travel. No, she has invited me but I cannot go."

Darcy nodded his understanding, "My aunt remains firm in her…disparagement?"

"I cannot say but my husband refuses to inquire on the matter."

"Disparagement?" Mrs. Darcy was confused that a woman with whom Mrs. Collins could claim friendship would be disparaged by Lady Catherine and looked inquiringly at her husband who accepted the office of responding.

"Mrs..?"

"Waring." Offered Charlotte.

"Thank you. Mrs. Waring had a younger sister who eloped but never married and was never found. The family faced considerable censure I believe. Is that not so, Mrs. Collins?"

"Yes, very much so. My husband is her cousin and heir to her father's estate; nevertheless, Lady Catherine was quite…firm in her denunciation of the family. In Meryton, at least, the advantageous marriages of the two eldest daughters have improved their standing in the community but still at least one of the daughters has moved to London to live with relatives."

Darcy spoke quietly to Charlotte, "I would hope that when you next write to Mrs. Waring – am I correct in assuming that Mr. Collins is not aware that you maintain a correspondence? – I hope you would extend our congratulations on the birth of her son."

"Your assumption is indeed correct, Mr. Darcy, and I will be most willing to pass along your best wishes. I should take this opportunity to return the favour. Elizabeth has written to extend similar wishes after learning of the birth of your daughter."

The Darcys remained for nearly an hour before leaving to continue their stroll through the Rosings Park. Charlotte was to see them only twice more on this visit; once when Lady Catherine invited the Collinses to dine and again when the Darcys called briefly to take their leave.

 **May 1816 – Oaksley Manor, Wiltshire**

Elizabeth removed her pelisse, bonnet and gloves and handed them to the maid. She was about to walk upstairs to her room and refresh herself after her walk when Mrs. Turner bustled towards her.

"A post, Mrs. Waring. It arrived just after you went out."

Elizabeth accepted the post with thanks and walked slowly upstairs. She recognized the handwriting and knew that Charlotte had finally answered her last letter. She did not wonder at the delay since she knew Charlotte had too many claims on her attention to be as assiduous in responding as herself. A quarter hour later, she settled on her bed and began to read what, for Charlotte, was a long letter and replete with the usual mention of events in Meryton, as related by her mother, and those involving the Parsonage. It was not until her friend mentioned a visit by the Darcys that her full attention was accorded the letter.

 _This has been the most interesting Easter since your visit in '12. Her ladyship was in the most peculiar mood for the last few months. You remember how I described her behaviour after returning from the christening of the Darcys' child. She was – and I quote – 'most seriously displeased' at her nephew's lack of consideration of her feelings. That his wife showed her no particular deference was a sore point as well – very sore, indeed. She referred to her most unkindly –ill-mannered and ungracious were the most common and kindest complaints. I had little expectation that I would ever meet her since her ladyship appeared to remain affronted at her nephew's unwillingness to admit that his marriage was a mistake and beg her forgiveness._

 _Mr. Darcy's steadiness to his purpose and his disregard of his aunt's wishes must have finally convinced her that she would have to bend to his will on this matter. I commend his resolution; it was with no little surprise that we were to learn that the Darcys and their child would visit for a fortnight with Lady Catherine. My husband was quite overcome with the news and had some difficulty in reconciling the condescension of her ladyship in receiving them and that of her nephew in accepting. I believe he concluded that the greater honour lay with her ladyship._

Elizabeth could hardly control her own chuckle. She had no doubt that her cousin's response was even more convoluted and ridiculous than Charlotte had stated. How her friend managed to keep her countenance when her husband exhibited the full measure of his foolishness was beyond Elizabeth's comprehension. As to Mr. Darcy, she was pleased that he was so resolute in defence of his wife and a passing thought that he might well have been so on her behalf had they married gave her only a momentary pause.

 _I believe her ladyship had an additional reason for permitting the Darcys to visit. Mr. Darcy's sister is to be wed on the twelfth of May and her ladyship's invitation may well have hinged on a full reconciliation with the Darcys as would be represented by inviting them to visit Rosings Park. They arrived several days before Easter Sunday and stayed a fortnight, returning to Pemberley for the wedding. Her ladyship accompanied them on their return; however, Miss de Bourgh was too ill to make the trip. Lady Catherine has yet to return, although we expect her daily. My husband keeps his assiduous watch so I am assured of being one of the very first to learn of her return to Rosings._

 _I wonder at Lady Catherine's eagerness to attend her niece's wedding. She, Lady Catherine, was quite vehement in stating that Miss Darcy should have made a more prestigious match. Nothing less than the son of a Duke or Marquess was adequate. I have heard nothing discreditable about the gentleman she did marry; he is a landowner with a respectable estate and income from a reputable, albeit untitled, family. Apparently the fact that Miss Darcy and her prospective husband are much in love carries little weight with her ladyship._

 _We were invited to dine only twice during their visit, her ladyship having no need for our company when such superior company was available to her. Mr. Darcy was much as I remember him although much less reticent than he appeared previously. He clearly dotes on his daughter and could be seen walking with his wife and daughter throughout the park. He and his wife called on us twice whilst they were out walking and I encountered her several times walking in the park by herself during her visit. Did you know she was the daughter of the rector of the Oswestry parish in Shropshire? We spoke quite comfortably on the duties that a parson's wife must assume. I gather that her father is not well and that, before her marriage, she frequently had to assist him in some of his parish duties. I quite enjoyed her company. Their daughter is truly delightful and appears to take after her mother in looks. I can hope that she has her mother's happy nature as well, although I must say that Mr. Darcy has improved. He bears his wife's gentle teasing quite well. He certainly did not allow his aunt to display any disrespect for his wife the evening we spent in their company at Rosings. Her ladyship is altogether too prone to speak of people as though they had not ears to hear with and her comments about Mrs. Darcy to Mr. Collins, on at least one occasion, were quite uncivil. Mrs. Darcy chose not to hear what was said although she sat beside me and I heard it all quite clearly. Mr. Darcy reprimanded his aunt immediately and she moderated her words for the remainder of the visit although she did not apologize for her incivility. I doubt not that I will hear little but complaints about Mrs. Darcy when next we visit Rosings. Having met the lady, it will be hard to bear Lady Catherine's disparagement with composure but I do what I must. Nothing, however, will persuade me to join in her efforts._

Elizabeth hardly knew what to think. The only time she thought now of Mr. Darcy was when Charlotte mentioned him in her letters and, while she could wish that her friend would cease doing so, she could not ask that of her without appearing to give more weight to those words than was actually the case. For herself, she was pleased that he had moved on, that he had found a woman to marry and that they had started a family. From what little Charlotte had revealed, Mrs. Darcy seemed to be an excellent woman and Mr. Darcy himself almost unrecognizable from the man she had once known. Could her words have caused so material a change? She could wish it were so. That he was able to act so gentlemanly only made her regret that he had not been able to do so with her.

 _While we were in Mr. Darcy's company, he asked after your family. I was able to assure him that all was well with the Bennets and that you and Jane had both married. He asked that I extend his wishes for the future happiness of you both. He did not ask after you directly but I did mention that you had born a son this summer past._

Elizabeth also noted that Mrs. Darcy had expressed a desire to meet her someday; she shook her head at the thought and knew that such a meeting would never occur. She did not believe that either Mr. Darcy or herself would ever wish to meet again. His best wishes for Jane would be communicated and, as she considered it further, she found that any lingering resentment that she had harboured on Jane's behalf against Mr. Darcy was gone in its entirety. His letter had absolved him of maliciousness but she realized that notwithstanding the reasonableness of his actions, she had retained a small amount of resentment. Jane's happiness was too full to now admit of such regrets. She also clucked when she read Charlotte's continued thoughts on Mr. Darcy's marrying a woman who was like her – Charlotte must cease such conjectures! Further thoughts were interrupted by a knock on her door and her housekeeper's entry to inquire about her plans for the afternoon. The ensuing discussion quite distracted her and she was content for that to be so.

 ** _June 1816 - Bristol_**

Waring wrapped his cloak around Elizabeth. The sea breeze was cool and he had noticed she had shivered slightly. Her soft "Thank you" did not alter the direction of her gaze which remained fixed on the ship clawing its way out of the harbour against the wind. Only she and her husband had come to see her sister Catherine sail away with her new husband. Married less than a month, Catherine Bennet, now Stevens, had chosen to live with her husband, Jacob Stevens, aboard his ship rather than be parted from him for months while he was at sea.

"I would not be parted from him unless it was necessary. It is not and Jacob assures me that I can live in tolerable comfort." She smiled at Elizabeth who returned it with one considerably less assured. "When we have children, I suppose it will not be possible for me to travel with him but, until then, I shall do so."

Elizabeth had seen the quarters which her sister would have to share with her husband and the space was hardly larger than a reasonably sized bedroom at Longbourn and would have to serve as both sleeping and living quarters. She would not have relished having to cope with such cramped accommodations. But as her sister was not unhappy at the situation, she forbore to argue further on the matter.

"I envy you the chance to see so much of the world."

"Jacob says we will travel to the Mediterranean as far as Malta and will also stop at Naples and Marseilles. I have bought travel guides for the places we will visit. Jacob says that we should be in each port for a week at least and promises to take me to the most interesting places."

Elizabeth laughed, "I truly envy you. I just hope that you are not like our Aunt Madeline and prone to get sick while sailing."

"I was concerned also," responded Catherine, "but Jacob and I sailed several times on our wedding trip and I was not sick even once. I shall be well, I am sure."

Finally, the ship was lost from sight and Elizabeth allowed Waring to guide her back to their carriage. The day was full young and still several hours before noon. Their baggage was packed and, as Oaksley was but forty miles distant and the weather fine, they could easily expect to sleep in their own beds tonight. As they settled into the carriage, Elizabeth remarked, "I could wish that we had not to travel to London tomorrow but Jane's baby may arrive any day and I did promise to attend her." She smiled at her husband, "and James could most likely use your company as well."

Waring grimaced, "I well remember how I felt. I cannot say that company provided much relief."

"From my Uncle Gardiner's account, you provided them with considerable amusement" she teased.

"That's right, make light of my suffering." He replied with a sly grin.

"Your suffering?" she pretended amazement, "Might I remind you of who was actually doing all the work that day?"

He waved a hand dismissively, "Trifles! Nothing but trifles."

She gave a mock baleful look, "I shall remember these words when the time is appropriate."

He started upright, "You are not…?"

Elizabeth looked at him quizzically, "I am not what?" and then, realizing the subject of their conversation, chuckled, "No, I am most definitely not….yet."

"Yet?"

"You are practicing most assiduously, Mr. Waring, and it is to be supposed that such diligence will eventually have its reward."

He relaxed with a satisfied smirk, "One can hope, madam. One can hope."

"I hope this play amuses you, Beth." murmured Waring as he led his wife through the throng crowding the foyer of the theatre.

Elizabeth squeezed her husband's arm. "I know you prefer to avoid such crowds, Anthony. I appreciate that we have come. And, I am indeed looking forward to this play."

She turned to the Gardiners who were accompanying them. "We are greatly indebted to you, Uncle, for renting us the box for the performance. I do not believe I have ever watched from a private box."

Mr. Gardiner smiled before saying, "After the care that you and Madeline afforded our dear Jane for the past week, it is little enough to do, I assure you."

Waring also expressed his appreciation. "I have, I believe, only had the privilege of sitting in a box once - some ten years ago when I attended with a friend. I think in future I will be more particular when we attend the theatre and endeavour to acquire the use of a box."

Elizabeth briefly considered all that had happened since they had left Bristol. She and Anthony had arrived at the Simmonses home in London the following day and three days later, Jane experienced her first pains. The birth itself was much quicker than Jane's first and John Thomas Simmons made his entrance into the world a scant six hours after his mother felt her first labour pains. However, a fever struck Jane a few hours later and it was only after five days of constant care from her sister and aunt that it broke and her recovery was assured.

Elizabeth's thoughts had so distracted her that she had not noticed their passage through the crowd attending the performance and was surprised to have reached their private box. Elizabeth had always enjoyed the theatre. In fact, it was, in her opinion, apart from the pleasure of visiting her relatives, the principal reason to visit London. She had been regularly treated to such performances when visiting the Gardiners and her husband had quickly learned that an evening so engaged put his wife in the most delightful, for him, frame of mind and most eager to please him accordingly. After the end of the first act, the gentlemen left to find some refreshments for their ladies during the brief intermission. Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner were quite content to remain seated and discuss the play and observe their surroundings. There was no shortage of persons to admire as the performance appeared to have attracted no few members of the highest circles but such sights could only provide so much to interest both ladies and the return of their husbands and the start of the second act were greeted with no little pleasure.

Following the second act, Elizabeth, uncomfortable from sitting for a prolonged period in one attitude, expressed the desire to take a turn around the theatre's lobby. Her husband was pleased to agree to her request and they wended their way through the crowds.

Always an interested observer of people, Elizabeth found herself scanning the faces that were arrayed around her. As they had few friends in London, she had no expectation of seeing anyone she knew; rather it was simply a pleasure to fancifully sketch the characters of some of those she saw. Thus it was a shock to suddenly see a face that was agonizingly familiar. Mr. Darcy! Just a few feet away! There he was, strolling through the crowded room, smiling as he engaged in conversation with the woman by his side. From the look on her face and the manner in which she held Mr. Darcy's arm, Elizabeth had little doubt that this was his wife. She was an attractive looking woman although hardly beautiful in the classic sense.

Mr. Darcy appeared much as he did when she last saw him. Tall, dark and handsome, but with one surprising difference. With a twinge, Elizabeth realized he looked….content. Mortified at her reaction, Elizabeth quickly turned away. He had not been looking in her direction and she was greatly relieved that he had not noticed her as she was not certain she could compose herself in time to greet him. As she walked with her husband back to her seat, Elizabeth wondered why seeing Mr. Darcy provoked such a response in her. She was, after all, a happily married woman and the mother of a wonderful boy.

As much as she tried, she could not completely excise him from her thoughts. He had proclaimed his love for her once and the admiration of a man of such consequence could not be dismissed lightly; and yet she had. Understanding came upon her suddenly and she was startled to realize that she felt regret for what might have been had they both acted with a better understanding of the other.

The entire encounter had been a matter of a few seconds only and a quick glance at her husband was sufficient to show that her brief abstraction had gone unnoticed. Shaken by the experience, Elizabeth resolved to put the matter out of her mind; she was content with her life and there was no point in considering how things might have been with Mr. Darcy. She turned her thoughts to her husband and deliberately undertook to converse with him about their return to Oaksley on the morrow. It was a prospect that they both had been wishing for for several days. Only her duty to her sister had kept her here in London this long.

Darcy and Judith had come to town to attend and celebrate his cousin's wedding. Richard Fitzwilliam had finally fixed on a woman to marry. She was an attractive woman, possessed of a fine fortune of forty thousand pounds and agreeable manners. If there was a drawback, it was that her father was in trade - a banker to be exact. However, her dowry was sufficient to enable Richard to resign from the military and, when combined with his own savings and gifts from his parents, to allow them to live quite comfortably as befitting the son of an earl. The couple clearly enjoyed each other's company – although Darcy could see no signs of a strong affection in either – and had decided that they could live quite well together. The prospect of attaching his daughter to the family of a peer had apparently (according to his cousin) been sufficient inducement for the bride's father to overlook the relative imbalance in their financial positions. The match was agreed upon and the wedding would follow shortly. Within a fortnight his cousin would be married and enjoying his wedding trip in Ireland.

So far, the play was one that both he and Judith enjoyed and the troupe of actors performing was exemplary. They encountered several couples during the intermissions with whom they had previously established a pleasant acquaintance, and whilst he remained uncomfortable amongst the the crowds that congregated in the theatre lobby, he had, for the most part, enjoyed himself. That Judith was so sanguine with the situation did much to ease his own discomfort.

He settled back to enjoy the final act which was due to begin shortly. Judith was casually scanning the room and paying particular attention to those in the other boxes. He whispered close to her ear.

"Admiring the gowns, Judith?"

Judith shook her head, "No, just marvelling that so many come here to be gazed upon or to be envied or to impress their acquaintances. It seems such a waste of effort and time."

Darcy switched his eyes from her countenance and began to scan the other boxes himself. He had paid little attention to them previously. They had been slightly late arriving and had only just taken their seats when the lights dimmed and the play began. Now he made a cursory perusal of each box within his purview. He noticed two couples in a box on the lower tier and was about to shift his attention to the next when one of the women leaned forward to speak to her companion. Her face was turned in his direction and he could see her quite clearly. He would know her anywhere. It was Elizabeth Bennet. The brief pleasure he then felt in seeing her was more than outweighed by the sudden sense of loss he felt. The latter bothered him greatly as he had thought himself free of any vestiges of admiration for the lady. Apparently not! However such emotions must be suppressed. He would not hurt his wife over this and she must never suspect that he harboured such feelings.

Nevertheless, he found himself leaning forward slightly to get a better look at her. Judith noticed his fixed attention and directed her gaze to where she thought her husband was focused.

"Who has captured your attention, husband?"

Darcy made no attempt at pretence, and gestured to the box below. "Do you see the woman in that box there – she is the second from the left."

Judith raised her glasses to get a closer look. "The younger lady?"

"Yes."

"You know her obviously. Who is she?"

"Do you remember Mrs. Collins speaking of her friend, Elizabeth Bennet?"

"That is she?"

Darcy nodded and then leaned back to think. Judith continued her appraisal for several minutes. It was good, Darcy thought, that his wife was distracted and did not see how disconcerted he was upon seeing Elizabeth. By the time she lowered her glasses, he was able to control his emotions. That is, he thought he could until Judith spoke.

"The gentleman to her right must be her husband. He looks some years older than she, but is a very gentlemanly person I would think."

Darcy smiled, "And how do you arrive at such a conclusion upon such a distant inspection, madam?"

Judith grinned, "My vaunted powers may be at fault - perhaps I read too much into a few gestures. But it takes little to discern that her conversation pleases him and she, in turn, seems quite happy to please. It is only that I see a degree of warmth in her smile at him and the way she touches his arm that leads me to believe her quite happy with him. If she is all that Mrs. Collins has averred - and I trust that lady's sensibleness - then he must be a good man to have won such affection."

Darcy could not disagree, as his opinion of Elizabeth was equally good. He was considering his feelings and congratulating himself on once again being able to view her with equanimity when Judith asked, "Should we try to find her after the performance so that you can greet her?"

The idea of actually encountering Elizabeth after all these years was too shocking for Darcy to contemplate and it took an a great deal of composure for him not to blurt out "No!" After a short pause, he said, "I think not. I suspect that the crowds will prevent it. Of course, should we meet them when we leave, it would be a pleasure to see her."

Judith nodded her head slowly. "I suspect you are correct. It is unfortunate because I believe that any woman that Mrs. Collins holds in such esteem is one I would wish to know."

Darcy knew that while in ordinary circumstances, and if it were any other woman, he would immediately move to satisfy his wife's implicit request. This time he could not. He had been married for eighteen months but if his reaction to seeing Elizabeth Bennet under such circumstances was an accurate guide, he had not excised her from his heart. No, this was an acquaintance that he could never encourage.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter 18**

Time has its own way of placing a perspective on events and while most of what occurred in the years immediately following 1816 was of little significance to this tale, several were of greater consequence.

The first such event arose out of a small epidemic that occurred in London in the winter of 1817. As was frequently the case, the illness was not long confined to that city but was carried to the surrounding areas by those attempting to flee from it. Mrs. Long, who had been visiting her relatives in the city, was the unfortunate person to bestow her questionable gift on the good people of Meryton. As Mrs. Long herself succumbed to the illness, it is probable that she was never aware of the consequences of her actions. Her passing was later accompanied by three more individuals all of whom were elderly or in poor health. Amongst the victims was Mrs. Bennet who, although not elderly, was not possessed of a robust constitution. Her tendency to seclude herself in her rooms had further reduced her strength and, although one might expect that she was unlikely to be exposed to the illness, she had the misfortune to be visiting her sister when Mrs. Long called and sat with them for a full hour after her return from London. Within two days Mrs. Bennet was feeling distinctly unwell and the apothecary upon examining her pronounced that she was indeed quite ill and proscribed the appropriate nostrums and potions…..to no avail. Such was the rapidity of Mrs. Bennet's illness that she survived Mrs. Long by no more than four and twenty hours and towards the end of January of that year, was buried. As Mr. Bennet was overheard to mutter, "I told her that if she were fortunate, I would outlive her."

As to the feelings of her family when apprised of Mrs. Bennet's demise, it seems fair to assert that she was missed very little. The breach between Mrs. Bennet and her daughters had never been fully mended and she had played such a trivial role in her daughters' affairs over the past five years that her absence on a permanent basis was hardly noted. Mr. Bennet, it is sad to say, missed her not at all. The death of a woman for whom he felt little affection and even less respect would not disturb his equanimity. It is possible to suppose that he was not lost to all feelings of regret but the kindest words he could find were uttered to his daughter Mary, "She was a very silly woman but if she harmed anyone, it was done unwittingly."

This epidemic claimed many more victims before it was done; however, the only one of any significance to this story resided in Kent. Miss Anne de Bourgh, never possessed of the strongest constitution, could ill afford to be exposed to such an illness but yet she was. It was due to no fault of her own, nor to any shortage of diligence or concern by her mother or her companion, Mrs. Jenkinson. A servant was the unknown and hapless carrier. A maid had ventured into Hunsford, attended a sick relative and, unaware of the danger she represented, returned to Rosings. Feeling no effects of her relative's illness herself, she had but to wait upon Miss de Bourgh several times and the damage was done. A scant week after displaying the first symptoms, Miss de Bourgh breathed her last. Her passing was met with the usual expressions of regret by her relatives and, while it is unsurprising that her mother might be the most unconsolable, those who best knew Lady Catherine suspected that her distress was compounded of equal parts of sadness at her daughter's death and anger that her own situation was radically reduced. For it was an uncomfortable fact that while Sir Lewis de Bourgh had not entailed his estate away from the female line, his heir was his daughter, Anne. Lady Catherine had ruled at Rosings on her daughter's behalf and when the latter died unmarried, the estate returned, as stipulated by Sir Lewis, to the de Bourgh family. Lady Catherine's consequence, when residing in the Dower House, was significantly less imposing than when established at Rosings Park and she felt the diminution dearly.

An unfortunate consequence of Miss de Bourgh's passing is that it restored to her mother all the resentment she had previously felt towards Darcy and his wife. In a most angry encounter with her ladyship following the funeral, the Darcys were given to understand that they were held to be responsible for her daughter's death. Simply put, her ladyship expressed the opinion that had Darcy married Miss de Bourgh, as was his duty, she would not have been at Rosings Park and would not have contracted the disease and died. No remonstrations on the part of Darcy, his wife or any of the Fitzwilliams, who had gathered for the funeral, were sufficient to alter her ladyship's views. A complete severance of all intercourse between the Darcys and Lady Catherine followed and was never healed. If, upon her own death some twelve years later, Lady Catherine could have exercised her authority from the grave, Mr. Darcy and his wife would never have been allowed to attend her funeral. However, since she could not, they did. The separation had been of her own making and Darcy would not allow the passing of his mother's sister without due recognition.

In contradistinction to the deaths of Mrs. Bennet and Anne de Bourgh, was the entrance of several new souls into this world. In August of the year '17, Georgiana Fellowes gave birth to a fine young gentleman who would henceforth bear the name of Arthur James William Fellowes. He was pronounced by one and all to be the handsomest of babies and Mr. and Mrs. Fellowes were congratulated upon such a happy increase in their family.

The following year, Anthony Waring's diligence in the marriage bed proved successful when Elizabeth gave birth to a daughter, Jane Alexandra Waring, in September of '18. If her brother was not overly impressed by his new sister, it could easily be ascribed to his marked preference for the small cob his father had acquired. Learning to ride was, as one might anticipate, much more interesting to a boy of nearly three than a baby who did little but command his mother's attention, sleep, and cry.

In between the birth of Master Fellowes and Miss Jane Waring a new Miss Darcy was also born. Judith entered her confinement in May of 1818. Her labour was arduous but not abnormally so and it was not until late in the process that the midwife found herself presented with a babe in the breech position. Fortunately, her efforts to turn the babe were successful and Helen Amelia Darcy entered the world safely and healthy. Sadly, the same could not be said about her mother. It was an unfortunate consequence of the midwife's efforts that Judith very quickly developed childbirth fever and all the efforts of her physician and nurses proved insufficient to save her life. A little more than a week after the birth of her daughter, and insensible to the presence of her husband at the end, she passed away. His wife's lack of awareness to her surroundings for most of this period could only add to Darcy's distress. He had spoken to her shortly after his daughter's birth and her happiness at the babe's health was lessened only slightly upon learning that she had not born an heir for Pemberley. While Darcy might admit to himself a slight disappointment as well, to Judith he gave every assurance of his pleasure and she was thus content to drift into a deep slumber with him by her side. By the next morning, a fever had her in its grip and her efforts to speak with him disclosed a mind increasingly clouded and wandering. There was a mention of a letter and her children's need for a mother but her final wishes, whatever they might have been, could not be understood.

Such was the esteem held by society of the Darcys that when Judith was laid to her final rest in the Pemberley graveyard, in attendance with her parents and her sister Georgiana were the majority of the Fitzwilliam family, her grandfather, Baron _, and many friends from the area surrounding Pemberley and as far north as Oswestry. Those who were not closely acquainted with Darcy might not have observed any appreciable change in his demeanour. Never the most demonstrative man in public, his control of his countenance was such as to preclude any obvious signs of his distress.

For grief he nursed, and guilt, however unreasonable, he could not dislodge. His own mother had died as a consequence of childbirth and he had put his own wife in a similar situation. Oddly enough it was his wife's mother who had assuaged his feelings on this matter. She had observed his behaviour and, from something he had said, divined the truth of the matter.

"You hold yourself responsible for my daughter's death, do you not?"

Darcy was slow to answer but finally nodded in agreement. He had come, several days after the funeral, to attend Judith's gravesite. Mrs. Farrell had seen him walk out of the house and head in the direction of the graveyard and had followed him there so as to speak with him in private. Her duties as a rector's wife and the frequency with which women died in childbirth had given her more experience of such situations than she could have wished. But she knew her son-in-law, whom she had come to esteem greatly for his responsible nature and care for her daughter, would take upon himself responsibility for her daughter's death. She waited a few minutes before continuing.

"You could not have stopped her, you know." She paused for a moment or two before continuing, trusting that her situation would lessen any impropriety in her words.

"My daughter was happy in her marriage. It was easy to detect as much from what she has written and said to me."

"I trust that she was. I have had no cause to repine our marriage."

"She was happy, Mr. Darcy. She wished for a family - brothers and sisters for Ann-Marie."

At his uncomprehending look she sighed and, looking beyond him, said, "I am a parson's wife, yet I will not speak of God or his mercies. It is as a mother and wife that I speak. I was only able to give my husband one child but I will tell you now that I would not have regretted my own death if it had come as a result of giving him another. The only way my daughter's death could have been averted would have been to deny her and yourself more children. And, if you had done so, do you think Judith would have been happy in such a state?" Without giving him an opportunity to respond, she stated, "Judith would not have wished for that. I am certain of it." She laid her hand on Darcy's arm, "She was so happy the child was healthy." Shortly thereafter she returned to the house leaving Darcy to ponder her words in solitude.

He remained there for some time before involving himself in his duties and responsibilities. It is a fortunate aspect that men in general find themselves forced to go out into the world to conduct their business and see to their responsibilities. For those individuals who have experienced a loss of some sort, the temptation to do so becomes very great as a means of substituting such concerns for those thoughts of a more dismal nature. So it was with Darcy. Never had his estate been subject to such assiduous interest, nor his investments to such prolonged scrutiny. Any inclination to distract his thoughts by journeying to London rather than remain at Pemberley foundered on his satisfaction with the company of his daughter, Ann-Marie. His youngest daughter was not yet of an age to provide much distraction but he did not allow his own grieving to cause him to avoid paying her some attention and, as she reminded him greatly of his sister Georgiana as an infant, he was not loathe to visit her daily in the nursery.

Despite the press of his duties, it became well known amongst the staff at Pemberley that after services on Sunday, the master could frequently be found attending his wife's gravesite. He was never accompanied in this activity and never stayed beyond a half hour. Although he had come to her bed with some frequency, and she to his on occasion, it was the loss of Judith's companionship that caused him the greatest disquiet; he had gotten so used to her company that to have lost it so suddenly was more painful than he had thought possible. His sojourns at her gravesite were a poor recompense but it allowed him to discuss some of the issues before him and, if he could not hear her responses, he could at least contemplate how she might have advised him. Her advice as to matters of the estate's farming practices was of limited value and she tendered it rarely but listen she could and that provided him considerable satisfaction as simply discussing a problem would often lead to a viable solution.

It was six months to the day after Judith's passing that Darcy received a thick letter from Mrs. Farrell. After he broke the seal, he found it contained two missives, the first from Mrs. Farrell and the second from his deceased wife. He read that from Mrs. Farrell first.

 _Oswestry Parsonage, Oswestry, Shropshire_

 _August _, 1818_

 _Dear Mr. Darcy,_

 _I have enclosed a letter from my daughter which she gave into my hand when her labours began. Lest you believe her to have some premonition of her passing, she did the same prior to Ann-Marie's birth as well. She charged me to wait for a half year to pass before sending it to you. She believed, and correctly I think, that were you to read it immediately following her death, you would not be able to fully accept her wishes. I have not been made privy to the letter's contents. That is solely for your eyes. I would only ask that you read it and understand that my daughter wished for your happiness should she not survive her labour._

 _God Bless you,_

 _Marie Farrell_

Darcy took his wife's letter to the privacy of his study and left orders that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances. His wife had desperately wished to speak to him in the days before her death but the fever had so fogged her thoughts that she could not. He remembered her mentioning a letter and it must be that which he now held. He weighed it in his hand as he considered what her thoughts had been. To comprehend the possibility of her own death and to have written to console him, spoke of the depth of her affection for him and her children. He finally forced himself to break the letter's seal.

 _My dear husband,_

 _Please believe me when I say that I had hoped you would never have cause to read this letter. Yet I can not be blind to the danger that I face. I have charged my mother to hold this letter for six months for I believe that you would possibly be too distraught till then to give it the credit I would wish._

 _In the three years we have been married I have come to understand your character all too well, my husband. You will take upon yourself the responsibility for my death and blame yourself for giving me this child, for being selfish, for not abstaining from my bed. I will not have it so. This child I bear is the product of our affections. He or she is here in my body as a result of my wishes and desires as well as your own. I willingly took on the risk that I might not survive as every woman who has ever born a child must. Would you have deprived me of the joy of raising Ann-Marie? I would not have it so. There is no guilt! You have done nothing wrong! God has not forsaken either of us! Believe me on this. My only regret is that I will not be with you to raise our children._

 _Indeed husband, it is I who must thank you. You have given me a life I had never dreamed of, a beautiful daughter, a handsome and wonderful husband. Do you suppose you could have denied me access to your bed or that I would have wished you not to come to mine? Foolish man! If you had done so, my unhappiness would have been immeasurable and you would have just cause to feel guilty for causing such misery. When we married there was no illusion of love between us and I cannot say that it exists even now. But this I know, we created a most delightful child and we share a bond that has given me pleasure and comfort._

 _It is of the future, both my children's and yours of which I now must speak. My children – our children – need a mother and you need a wife. I cannot wish upon you a solitary existence. For your sake, and that of our children, I charge you to find a woman for whom you hold both respect and affection. She does exist and I place upon you the responsibility of finding and marrying her. I will not speak of her qualities but only ask that she accept my children as her own and love them dearly._

 _For the sake of our children, I would ask you to honour this last request of mine. You are not dishonouring my memory by marrying again. Know that I will rest easier knowing that you do so._

 _All my love,_

 _Judith_

Over the course of the next six months Darcy was to read Judith's letter innumerable times. When his mourning period ended, he did not move directly back into society. He was visited by the occasional friend or neighbour but he found himself quite content to remain at Pemberley in the company of his children. He had little desire to partake of the London season. He had not met Judith there and he had little expectation that, should he choose to marry again, his wife would be one of London's socialites. Over the succeeding months he and his children travelled to Cornwall to visit his sister and to Oswestry to visit the Farrells and Goodwells. As he had no expectations of meeting a woman who would be of sufficient interest to court, he was not disappointed when, at the end of the second year after Judith's passing, he was still unmarried.

Time does allow for such feelings to pass. Darcy who had never formed a passionate attachment to his wife, did hold her in affection and respect and, by the time his mourning period had passed, he had come to view her loss as that of a very close relative. His heart had been wounded by Judith's death but had healed during the mourning period. By then Ann-Marie had, for the most part, done as children her age are wont to do. Her mother was a remote memory and only her portrait could call her face to mind. As for Miss Helen Darcy, of her mother she had no memories at all.

The next event of interest to this story followed shortly upon the passing of Judith Darcy and appears of a rather trivial nature. Robert Seaton, steward for the Oaksley estate, reached the fine age of three and sixty, and, having set aside such funds as would be sufficient to support himself and his wife in their existing life style in the future, thought to retire. His own son, John, a young man of six and twenty, had for the past five years served as his assistant and, having recently married and expecting an increase in his family, was in need of additional income. It seemed therefore to Robert Seaton that should he retire, his son might easily step into his position having been suitably trained for the task.

Anthony Waring, when approached with the prospect, was not adverse to the proposal but chose to discuss it with his wife before agreeing to employ the younger Seaton as his steward.

"What think you of John Seaton, Beth?" he inquired. His own dealings with the man had not caused him to have any doubts as to his competence. His wife's hesitation in responding was, therefore, somewhat of a surprise. After a pause of some seconds, Elizabeth replied.

"I have no complaint as to his competence," she said.

"But….?"

Elizabeth struggled to find the words to express her reservations. The problem, she knew, was that she had nothing tangible to base her objections on. This she made clear to her husband.

"At best" said she finally, "I can only suppose from his manner a distaste for my involvement in managing the estate. It is more of an impression than anything, for he has, by neither word nor deed, given cause for complaint." Elizabeth shrugged, "Put it down to a woman's fancifulness, if you will, for I have nothing of substance about which to complain."

Waring sought to get her to be more forthcoming but as she could not, he felt that he had little option but to accept his steward's recommendation and John Seaton was duly promoted to the position of steward and assumed all the duties thereof. Neither Waring nor Elizabeth found any fault with his performance and although Elizabeth was resigned to the situation, she was unable to feel comfortable in her dealings with him. Neither could she like the man.

It was, by all reckoning, a very normal day. Elizabeth had busied herself with the doings of the house and while her daughter, who was now some four months old, made fewer demands upon her time, she still nursed regularly. That she had also progressed to the point of being aware of her surroundings and that her mother found her a delightful object to play with while lying on the floor was a poorly kept secret in the household. For what lady of Elizabeth's consequence behaved so indecorously? Elizabeth cared not at all and was only, this afternoon, regretting that her husband had been required to visit a neighbour some ten miles away on a matter of common concern to them both. He also could frequently be found in company with is wife and their son and daughter, happily playing on the floor of Elizabeth's sitting room.

Thus his absence, while regretted, was not marked. The onset of an unexpected rainstorm did not, at first, discompose Elizabeth particularly as such an occurrence was not unknown at this time of year and her husband was quite familiar with the route he traveled. She would have been happier if he had taken the carriage, but as the weather had been fine when he departed, his own preference to ride was exercised.

She did not begin to worry until it was an hour past the time he was expected to return and he had not appeared. Another hour gave Elizabeth resolve to send a messenger to the neighbour her husband visited. Although she was certain that if he had chosen to remain there, he would have sent a message to her, she held out hope that his message had not reached her due to the weather. Of more immediate concern was to search the route that her husband was most likely to take when he returned. A check of the stables informed her that her husband's horse had not returned without him and she thought it possible he had chosen to stop at a cottage along the way to escape the storm. A party of three men was sent forth and Elizabeth had no recourse but to sit and nurse her child and her worries until they returned. It was over an hour later when a rider returned in great urgency with news that her husband had been found and a surgeon from Malmesbury must be sent for immediately.

Apparently, Waring had decided to return home despite the weather and, in the interests of arriving more quickly, had chosen a shorter but more difficult route to do so. What happened, the messenger could not say, but Waring's horse was discovered with a broken leg and nearby he was found unconscious on the ground. As a carriage could not make the the trip over such ground, a dog cart was quickly fitted up and extra blankets carried to provide as much shelter from the rain as could be afforded.

The surgeon, Mr. Corey, arrived at Oaksley not long after Waring himself had been carried into his bedroom and his wet clothes removed as carefully as possible. His visit was of a short duration. His manner was grave and his mien led Elizabeth to expect that the news was not good.

Elizabeth inquired into her husband's condition. Mr. Corey was reluctant, at first, to disclose this information although why that should be so, Elizabeth failed to understand. Finally he relented.

"I am truly sorry, Mrs. Waring" said Mr. Corey. "There is little I can do for your husband but give him some laudanum to relieve the pain. From your husband's injuries, I can only suppose that when the horse fell, he was caught beneath the animal. His chest was…crushed and I believe his lungs are irreparably damaged."

"Is he aware? Can I speak with him?"

"I have administered laudanum and he was only barely conscious when I was with him."

Elizabeth could not avoid the question.

"You do not expect he will live, do you?" She could not, would not allow herself to give into her concerns and fears. She was not her mother and would command her emotions in public. If the surgeon thought her cold and unfeeling, so be it. She cared not for his opinion on this matter.

"No, Mrs. Waring. I do not expect him to survive the night." He softened his voice. "I am surprised that he lived this long having been exposed to the cold and rain as he was. I think your presence will be of comfort to him."

Elizabeth chastised herself for thinking so unkindly of Mr. Corey and nodded. "Thank you, sir. I shall go to him directly."

The surgeon took his leave and Elizabeth sat by her husband's bedside for the next several hours, taking upon herself the sole care of him. His breathing was increasingly laboured, blood flecked his lips and to speak was almost beyond his power. When his lips moved she could hear little that was discernible. She thought he called for his mother and that he mumbled her own name but she could not be certain of either. That he would call upon her in his distress, she had no reason to doubt. The only interruption Elizabeth suffered was to nurse her child before returning her to the care of the nurse. There was little she could do except place cooling cloths on his forehead, wipe his lips and hold his hand. She spoke to him often. Whether he heard she could not be sure although she imagined she felt the slightest response from his hand. In the privacy of his room she spoke of many things; of her fears that he would leave her; of her anger that he had put himself at risk by riding under such conditions when he could have easily slept at his friend's home; of the fact that their children would be raised without knowing their father - she vowed to instruct them as best she could; of her happiness and satisfaction in her marriage; of her fears that she would be unable to manage Oaksley as competently as he had done; of his cruelty in leaving her alone after becoming such an essential part of her life. She spoke of the memories they had created together, the pleasures they had shared and the loss of those that they had anticipated in their future together.

Shortly before dawn, Anthony Waring shuddered and breathed his last. Elizabeth Waring, at the age of seven and twenty, was a widow with two young children to raise and responsibility for the management of an estate. The finality of her situation bore down on her and, in the privacy of her husband's chambers, she allowed herself to grieve. She had refused herself tears while he breathed but now that restraint was removed. When she later opened the doors to speak to her servants, the signs of her sorrow were marked on her features. None ever saw her weep for her husband but none who knew her best ever doubted she had.

The funeral presented few surprises. Anthony Waring was quite well liked in the neighbourhood and his wife had won equal commendation with her cheerful mien and accommodating behaviour. The Gardiners and the Simmonses attended and Mrs. Gardiner took it upon herself to remain with her niece for a month complete after the funeral. The Harts made the trip, arriving the morning of the funeral; and, to Elizabeth's surprise, Anthony's sister and her son, Nelson Stokes, also made an appearance to offer their condolences. It appeared that Mr. Stokes was not of a mind to overlook the affronts he believed he had endured on his previous visit when he attempted to dissuade Anthony Waring from marrying Elizabeth. However, he apparently did not forbid his wife from attending her brother's funeral. To do so, despite the breach in family relations, would be highly improper. Why Mr. Nelson Stokes attended, Elizabeth could not discern. He looked at her keenly when they met, uttered the usual banal condolences and spoke not ten words to her for the rest of his visit. Mrs. Stokes' manner was distant but civil and Elizabeth rather thought her expressions of sadness bore a considerable degree of honesty. As she admitted to Elizabeth, she and her brother had not been close but she had fond memories of him as a child. The only other members of her husband's family to attend were his niece, Mary, and her husband, Jonathon. Elizabeth welcomed their support and comfort for she knew both had been dear to Anthony Waring.

The reason for Stokes' appearance, despite the breach in the family, became quickly apparent when Anthony Waring's solicitor, Mr. Andrews, appeared the day following the funeral to apprise Elizabeth, and those named in the will, of its contents. Though he was not amongst those to be invited to attend, Stokes, his displeasure at the omission apparent, maintained his composure and requested permission to do so. As Elizabeth had no particular reason to be concerned whether the Stokes' were present or not, she finally brought the matter to a close by over-riding the advice of Mr. Andrews and consenting to their presence. What they hoped to gain she could not ascertain but the matter seemed too trivial to dispute and her own distress too acute, although under such control as to not display it, to wish to contest the matter. If Nelson Stokes could be admitted, she did not feel it inappropriate to invite her own uncle to attend as well. Mr. Gardiner would provide her support and she was not reluctant to concede her preference for such.

The number invited to hear the will was not large. In addition to Mrs. Stokes and her son, Mr. Gardiner and Elizabeth, only Mr and Mrs. Hart and a Mr. Harold Crowley, Waring's closest friend and a man whom Elizabeth had come to know and respect, were present. The will had left a number of bequests for various servants and Mr. Andrews and Elizabeth had chosen to meet with them all separately to inform them of their good fortune. Elizabeth was particularly pleased that the Turners, who had served the Waring family for many years, would, when they chose to retire, have the comfort of a pensioner's home and an annual pension, although both assured her that they hoped to work for many more years yet.

As it turned out, the will was a simple matter. Mr. Andrews began to read, omitting only those sections pertaining to the bequests to servants.

"For your information, Mr. Waring updated his will shortly after the birth of his daughter. There is also a special notarized letter that Mr. Waring attached to his will, to be read at the same time as his will." Andrews looked around at the various faces and, assured that he had their attention, began to read.

" _I, Anthony Waring, of Oaksley in the County of Wiltshire do hereby make this my last will and and instrument revoking all former wills by me made whereas by a marriage settlement made on or about the 3_ _rd_ _day of August 1814 between myself and Elizabeth Rose Bennet now Waring. To my dear wife, Elizabeth, is left her jointure of twenty thousand pounds as specified in the marriage settlement. As well my wife shall be allowed to live for as long as she may wish at Oaksley Manor or another house as approved by the executor of this will. As well she is left all jewelry purchased for her since our marriage, a list of which is to be compiled by the executor."_

" _To my daughter, Jane Alexandria Waring, do I leave twenty thousand pounds to be paid to her upon reaching the age of 25 or upon her marriage whichever shall first happen provided she marry with the consent of my said trustees or the survivor of them."_

" _To my beloved niece, Mary Hart, I bequeath five thousand pounds."_

" _To my son, David Bennet Waring, I leave the residual of my estate to be held in trust for him until he reaches the age of 25. Trustees for the estate shall be my wife, Elizabeth Rose Waring, and my friend, Harold Crowley. Should one or other of the appointed trustees die before my son reaches the age of 25, my nephew by marriage, Mr. Jonathon Hart, shall be appointed as a replacement."_

 _My wife and Harold Crowley are named the guardians for my son, David Bennet, and my daughter, Jane Alexandra, and should either die before their duties are complete, Jonathon Hart shall be named as guardian in their place. I stipulate further that due to his intransigence in the matter of my marriage, no member of the Stokes family, apart from Mr. Jonathon Hart, shall be named as trustee to this estate or guardian to my children."_

" _I charge my wife with the management of my estate. She has earned my trust and confidence. The advice of my friend, Mr. Harold Crowley shall be sought where she deems it appropriate but it is upon her that I place all responsibility to protect the inheritance of our children. I know she shall not fail of this charge."_

" _This is my last will and testament as to the disposition of my worldly goods. I do hereby constitute Mr. Josiah Andrews as the executor with a payment of 50 pounds per annum from the Oaksley estate for as long as his services in the administration of this will are required."_

Mr. Andrews paused for several seconds before picking up a second sheet of paper. "That is the substance of Mr. Waring's will. I have now to read a letter, which he placed in my care at the time of his marriage. It is dated the 1st of August 1814 and has been duly notarized.

" _To whom it may concern,_

 _This is to verify that I, Anthony Waring, do enter into marriage with Elizabeth Rose Bennet, fully aware of the circumstances surrounding the disappearance of Miss Lydia Bennet; which information was disclosed to me some months previous by Miss Elizabeth Bennet and her uncle, Mr. Edward Gardiner. I make this statement to prevent any suggestion that Miss Elizabeth Bennet did knowingly conceal it from me._

 _Anthony Waring"_

Nelson Stokes was silent throughout the reading and once it was done, collected his mother to make their departure. She, with every evidence of civility, made all the proper observances and they took their leave. Elizabeth, who had been watching Stokes for much of the reading, believed she could discern that what he had heard pleased him not at all. The particulars for his unhappiness she could not comprehend and in the silence that followed their departure, turned to her uncle for reassurance.

"Mr. Stokes was most unhappy, I believe. He cannot change or overturn the will, can he, Uncle?"

Mr. Andrews responded before Mr. Gardiner could do so.

"I assure you, Mrs. Waring, that, as the jointure is as specified in the marriage settlement, as is the guardianship of your children; there are no grounds to contest the will."


	20. Chapter 20

A/N: You may or may not be aware that I have made a small change in Chapter 1. Darcy's second child has been changed fro a boy to a girl.

In the months that followed, Elizabeth both cursed and blessed those activities that consumed almost every hour of her waking day. Mrs. Turner frequently suggested that she allow a wet-nurse to take on the care of her daughter but this Elizabeth would not permit herself to do. It was not a duty but one of the most satisfying part of her day; nonetheless, she had, more often that she cared to remember, found herself holding her daughter in her left arm after she had finished nursing and answering her correspondence with her right hand. And there was much correspondence to be dealt with. Fortunately, people knew better than to extend invitations, but the flow of business would not wait upon her mourning and demanded her immediate attention. While Mrs. Turner assumed a greater portion of the household responsibilities, some aspects remained within the mistress' purview – accounts must be checked and repairs to the house and furnishings identified and undertaken. Accompanied by a groom, she rode the estate almost daily, visiting the tenants, checking buildings, fences, field and livestocks. In the midst of such doings she insisted on finding several hours a day to be with her son, playing with him, reading, instructing or just walking while he gambolled around her like a young puppy. She blessed all such activities as they absorbed so much of her attention that her mind could not linger over the loss of her husband.

Only in the hours when she should sleep did she allow herself to think of him and mourn the loss of his companionship. For it was his company and his conversation on their walks and when they were out riding and most frequently when simply sitting in the library of an evening, just the two of them; sometimes reading; sometimes playing chess and sometimes she would play for an hour or more on the pianoforte for his pleasure. She could not feel lonely during the day, surrounded by people, but come the evening, she had naught for companionship but a book and all too often she felt the lack sorely. After the first month, her tears had ceased. She had never indulged herself greatly in any event but, as best she could, she exerted herself to recollect the times that she and her husband had been happy together – to remember the pleasure of the past.

One chore she found increasingly unpleasant. She was required by the needs of the estate to meet with her steward several times a week and, if she could observe no particular disrespect on the part of John Seaton, from his manners she sensed a degree of dislike on his part. It was not overt. He was cautious to portray no disagreement; however, on several instances where she had chosen to act contrary to his advice, he had persisted in his arguments to the point where she felt obliged to be more forceful in stating her decision. In each case, she had afterwards made it a point to check that her wishes were fulfilled. The first time such a disagreement arose, she had not thought to make such an inspection until such time had past as to allow the task to be completed. When she rode to the site in question – a small bridge that was to be widen as it was rebuilt – the work had only just been started. Seaton's reasons for the delay were given and, if she chose not to belabour the matter, she also made it known that she was unhappy with the progress of the work. In subsequent cases she made it a point to make an earlier check on the progress of the project. She could not fault Seaton's efforts although, after some discussions with Mr. Crowley, she rather believed that he did not exert the same degree of enthusiasm for their completion as he did for those projects of which he approved.

She was not happy with this degree of discord between herself and her steward. She had mentioned as much to Crowley and he had suggested that, as Seaton had done nothing for which he could be censured, it was best to be patient and see how the situation unfolded. To this she had agreed reluctantly and so the matter had stood until the day she had driven her phaeton to Malmesbury to do some shopping.

She and her maid had completed their shopping and, by mid-afternoon, being both thirsty and slightly hungry had decided to stop at the Malmesbury Inn for refreshment. Ensconced in a booth they were quietly enjoying the small beer and pastries provided when they were disturbed by voices from the booth backing on theirs. One of the occupants made no effort to moderate the volume of his voice and it had taken only a few moments for Elizabeth to identify the voice as belonging to her steward. Any inclination that she might have had to apprise him of her presence, dissipated with his very first words.

"That bitch cannot marry soon enough for me." Said Seaton.

His companion's response was too low for Elizabeth to understand what was said.

"Aye, it was bad enough when Waring was alive. She attended too many of our meetings even then but I could ignore her."

Some more mumbling and Elizabeth thought she heard his friend say, "…woman…looker..."

"A looker she might be and I'd taste soon enough should I have the chance but I'd sooner she married."

Some more mumbling ensued.

"Why? 'Tis not a woman's role to be giving orders to men. It's unnatural it is. If she had not littered two children I would have wondered as to her nature."

"…riding…."

"Aye, that she does. Only on the estate, mind you, but astride like a man. 'Tis unnatural and wrong. Why …."

His friend interrupted, "...heard ….Lady…astride."

"I care not what some lady did. The Virgin Mary could ride astride and 'twould not make it right."

Seaton's companion spoke for some seconds but the only words Elizabeth could discern were "Waring" and "Crowley."

"I have tried but she checks everything I do. However, she will get her comeuppance. I will score off her and she'll never be the wiser."

Elizabeth attention became even more focused and she leaned back hoping to be able to hear more clearly.

Seaton's friend spoke more softly and Elizabeth could make no sense of what he said. She suspected he might have warned Seaton to lower his voice as the latter's next words were barely distinguishable.

"…Hatton…billing…pounds."

The two men continued their conversation for another quarter hour before making their departure but she could make little sense of what she overheard. Elizabeth, who had been wishing to leave for some time, thought it best to wait for another five minutes before encouraging her maid to finish and then hurrying them both to the stables where her phaeton was stationed. She had much to think about and Harold Crowley's advice must be obtained; however, she felt a need to investigate the matter further before bringing it to his attention. As she drove home she thought about the last portion of Seaton's conversation. The only Hatton she knew was William Hatton who supplied building materials. The Oaksley estate would be one of his major customers. She did not know him well, but thought her husband had always found him to be respectable and honest.

She spent much of that evening considering the matter from all possible angles. She could see only two methods by which Seaton and Hatton could collude to defraud the estate. They were either over charging for materials or they were billing for more materials than was required. A check of the ledgers for the current year indicated that Hatton had billed her for over four hundred pounds. She understood how the process worked. Her carpenter, Mr. James, was responsible for estimating the materials required for most jobs. He had been employed by the estate for nearly thirty years and she had come to know him fairly well since her arrival. He was a rather dour, taciturn individual but, for all that, he had never accorded her anything but complete respect. Her husband had relied upon him without question. She remembered his words before he first introduced her to James. "James," he said, "Is not the most clever of men but he is honest and fastidious about his work."

No, she could not imagine Mr. James being a part of any scheme to defraud the estate, in which case, the principals must be Seaton and Hatton. Her anger almost drove her to summon Seaton to question him on the matter. She would be within her rights to discharge him for his slanderous comments alone; yet she could not but feel that doing so would cause talk and possibly disapprobation in the neighbourhood. It was not that she was unpopular but her active role in managing the estate was not viewed favourably by all her neighbours. They would undoubtedly be much more comfortable if a man were to perform the task.

'Think woman' she told herself, 'The man holds you in poor respect. Too little to be bothered making it an elaborate undertaking. Simple then….' James, she knew, would tell Seaton what materials were required. Seaton would order from the supplier and the latter would send the material to the estate and then submit an invoice to Seaton. No one, she realized ever bothered to check that the correct amount of materials had been delivered and, as long as the steward was honest, there was no need to do so. She was sure that was how the fiddle worked and Hatton and Seaton were probably sharing the 'profit' of their swindle.

She sat for more than an hour after a late meal considering and discarding one idea after another regarding how to prove Seaton's guilt. Nothing seemed feasible and her mind was weary and frustrated when she finally decided to lay the matter aside till the morning.

She was nursing her daughter the next morning, her thoughts unfocused. She was in her usual chair which looked over the home farm and several of the outbuildings. She was considering the rather poor condition of the stables. Anthony, she knew, had intended to have it rebuilt. That job had been set aside for more immediate concerns. An idea of how to prove Seaton's dishonesty presented itself to her almost full-blown. She was about about to tear her idea apart for flaws when she felt a sharp pain at her breast. A finger in her daughter's mouth removed her from the nipple.

"Do not bite!" she scolded her tone of voice signalling her displeasure. That she knew the child understood. As her daughter seemed disinclined to nurse further, she was shortly able to hand her over to her nurse and return her thoughts to the problem she faced with Seaton. She rather thought her plan was workable. It all hinged on there being a discrepancy between the materials requested and the amount for which she would actually be invoiced. But she knew she should consult with Mr. Crowley. If her conjectures were proven correct, she would have grounds to dismiss her steward and she come to depend upon Mr. Crowley's judgement gained through years of experience. Shortly thereafter a note requesting a meeting that day at a time of his convenience was sent to Harold Crowley and two hours later his response arrived stating he would wait upon her at three that afternoon.

Punctual to the time Crowley was ushered into her study. It took Elizabeth almost a half hour to recount the conversation she had overheard and her proposal to prove Seaton's wrong-doing. Crowley considered the matter for several minutes before asking, "Are you convinced that James is trustworthy?"

Elizabeth said she had no reason to believe otherwise and that her husband had trusted him implicitly.

"Hmmm. It is basically a simple plan. Seaton must not suspect anything though. Only you and I must know of this."

"Do you foresee any difficulties?"

"Not really. The stables must be rebuilt, James will submit his estimate of materials required to Seaton and Seaton will place the order with Hatton. He has done this several times already for similar projects. Why would he do anything different? He has no reason to believe he is under suspicion."

"I will have to obtain from James his initial estimate of materials."

Crowley nodded, "Can you not wait until Hatton delivers the materials?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "He might not remember the exact quantities. I will have to ask him to make a duplicate copy of his estimate for me." She shrugged, "He may suspect the reason but I doubt he would speak of it to Seaton."

Crowley gave her a quizzical look, "He does not like Seaton?"

"I cannot say one way or the other. But I believe he would respect my wish for secrecy."

Crowley grunted, "As long as he does not tip our hand to Seaton."

The next day Elizabeth spoke to her steward about rebuilding the stables and he was not slow to start the project. Elizabeth chanced on Mr. James several days later and inquired as to whether he had completed his estimates of what was required.

"Aye, Ma'am, 'tis almost done."

"Excellent, James." Elizabeth tried to make her tone sound casual although she rather suspected that James would not be deceived. "Once you have, please make a copy of the list for me."

Mr. James was clearly surprised at this request but said nothing, simply glancing at her for a few moments before replying.

"Aye ma'am. Should I let Mr. Seaton know that I have done so?"

"Ahh, that will not be necessary, I thank you." Elizabeth hesitated but as she had already raised his suspicions, she saw no reason to dissemble further. "In fact, James, I would have you not mention it to Mr. Seaton at all."

Mr. James grunted and nodded his head. As Elizabeth walked away she chanced a quick look back to see that he was staring after her with, it seemed, a rather thoughtful expression.

Two months later, Crowley was once again showed into her study. After the usual pleasantries, she handed him two pieces of paper which he scanned, compared and a minute or so later commented, "it is proven then."

"Yes. I even asked James to check that he received only the quantities he requested." She passed Crowley a third slip of paper. "Here's his record. I asked him to sign and date it as well."

"By my calculation they charged for a tenth more materials than Hatton delivered. Almost 70 pounds more." He looked at her, "None of the other suppliers overcharged?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "Not for this project at least."

Crowley struggled to control his outrage. "This is insufferable. He should be charged. He could be transported for less, perhaps hung."

Elizabeth had not considered the matter of punishment. She had only thought to dismiss Seaton. To have him hung, or even transported, would punish his family as much, if not more, than himself. She shook her head, "His father was a valued servant and Seaton has a young family. I cannot punish the innocent."

Crowley was not easily persuaded to Elizabeth's view but, after a prolonged argument, finally relented, "He must make restitution - you have no choice - he must also be dismissed immediately. No reference either!"

With this Elizabeth found no disagreement – although as she had no intention of paying for more than the delivered materials, restitution was not a concern. The next morning John Seaton was summoned and shown the proof of his malfeasance. His attempts to claim that an error had been made were dismissed outright and, seeing that Elizabeth was obdurate, began to utter threats. Oaksley's largest footman had been placed outside the study door and when he entered the room Seaton immediately ceased speaking. Once he had quieted, Elizabeth asked the footman to return to his position which he did, closing the door behind him.

"Mr. Seaton, you may consider yourself fortunate to be only dismissed. Only you, Mr. Crowley and I know the particulars. I am not of a mind to publicly brand you a thief. Mr. Crowley wished to charge you with fraud and you know, I am sure, the punishment for an offence such as yours. Because of your father and family, I would not have it so. However, should you persist in your defamation of me – oh yes, I have heard you slander and insult me and I will not have it, sir. So I say, if you persist, I will have you before the courts, and allow them to deal with you properly. Am I understood, Mr. Seaton?"

Seaton nodded and was about to take his leave when Elizabeth offered her parting comment.

"Mr. Seaton." He stopped and turned back to her. "You may inform your….partner, Mr. Hatton, that he will no longer be asked to supply Oaksley. Whatever monies he received from this estate is the last he shall ever receive. Please be sure he understands also that should I hear of any disparaging talk, I shall turn the matter over to the magistrate."

Elizabeth waved to him dismissively and Seaton departed quietly. Elizabeth took some solace in his chastened look and hoped that she would have no cause to deal with him again.

The need for a new steward was pressing. Crowley had offered to lend her his assistant for a short term but could not afford his absence for a prolonged period and suggested that Elizabeth contact her solicitor to have him advertise for a replacement. A note was sent later that morning to Mr. Andrews and a meeting arranged for the following day.

To say that Mr. Andrews was shocked at Elizabeth's action to dismiss John Seaton was to place a modest interpretation of his response. His perturbation was obvious and he appeared about to express his reservations quite strongly when Elizabeth informed him that Mr. Crowley had approved of her decision. Mr. Andrews could not be satisfied until fully informed of the reasons for dismissing Seaton and his first comment revealed his thoughts clearly.

"I must agree with Mr. Crowley. He should be charged – attempted fraud no less - and for this amount of money the penalty could be extreme. Whatever were you thinking, Mrs. Waring, to allow him to leave scot-free?"

Elizabeth explained once again her reasons for doing so and finally convinced him to direct his concern to finding a new steward. She was rather surprised at his response.

"I do not think you need worry on that account, Mrs. Waring. No indeed. I believe I have the answer right here in my office."

He chuckled at the puzzled look on her features. "I have a clerk who has about finished his training with me. He's the third son of a gentleman who lives on the other side of Malmesbury some ten miles distant. The estate is small and his father could ill-afford to give him much to start out with. Mr. Torrens is not, I believe, inexperienced in the management of an estate. He took up the study of law for want of a better opportunity. I would be sorry to lose him but he should not be denied such an chance as this."

Elizabeth was agreeable to meeting the man and the introductions were soon made. It was a matter of an hour's conversation in the office and an afternoon spent riding with him around the estate to determine that he would suit her quite well; and, as the gentleman himself had hopes of marrying, should his income increase sufficiently to allow such an event, the prospect of becoming Oaksley's steward was most pleasing to him as well. Within four and twenty hours of Elizabeth meeting with Mr. Andrews, Mr. William Torrens had been hired as her steward and would begin work in a fortnight.

It was but a day after the first anniversary of her husband's passing when Elizabeth received a most unexpected visitor. She had been working on her correspondence and had partially finished a letter to her sister, Jane, when Mr. Turner rapped on the study door and, upon being instructed to enter, informed her that a Mr. Nelson Stokes had called upon her.

It was all Elizabeth could do to not gape at her butler like a fish. Collecting herself she replied, "Show Mr. Stokes to the parlour and inform him that I will attend him in five minutes. Oh, and have Mrs. Turner arrange for refreshments to be delivered there as soon as may be."

As Mr. Turner bowed and left, Elizabeth was left to contemplate her visitor and his purpose. She had heard nothing from the Stokeses since her husband's funeral. Her visitor had arrived unannounced and, if she were honest with herself, was not particularly welcome. She tidied her hair and inspected her dress. It was a simple, plain gown of a type she wore when not expecting to be in company. To change would require some time and she saw no reason to do so. If Mr. Stokes would arrive without warning, he must take her as he found her.

He rose to his feet when she entered the room and approached her directly. After the appropriate greetings were exchange she directed him to a sofa while she sat in her usual chair. She considered him briefly, looking for any likeness with her late husband but found none apart from the colour of his eyes. She remembered that he had not any great resemblance to his mother and assumed he must take after his father whom she had never met. He was not particularly tall – some several inches shorter than her husband – and was rather squarely built. He was only, she remembered about six and twenty and she supposed that as he got older he might struggle with his weight. He was not unhandsome for his features were regular. His clothing suggested a bit of the dandy and she remembered Mr. Hurst who had more fashion than fortune. She had a sudden image of Mr. Stokes in ten years in much the same guise as Mr. Hurst. Not, she thought, a pleasant prospect.

They exchanged the usual pleasantries as she awaited him to explain the reason for his visit. The details of his trip were canvased, the weather and the health of his family and hers inquired after. She could discern nothing of his purpose. He appeared relaxed and confident, almost arrogantly so as he scanned the room and its contents. It was a comfortable room, not lavishly furnished or decorated and. if the sofa was a bit worn and the furnishings old-fashioned, their state bothered her not all. She supposed that she should have directed him to the main drawing room but the parlour where they now sat, was where she received family. Mr. Stokes was family despite the breach and she would treat him accordingly.

A silence of almost a minute had fallen upon them. Elizabeth had exhausted her supply of small conversation and wished for Mr. Stokes to come to the point. This, however, he seemed reluctant to do. Finally he rose and walked over to stand by the fireplace, his arm resting on the mantlepiece. After a brief pause, he turned to face her and in a few short sentences explained his purpose for calling on her.

"I am sure you have divined my intentions, Mrs. Waring. My uncle's passing was most unfortunate but as your period of mourning is now complete, you must concede that you need to marry again. The reasons for your doing so are manifold but I shall address them shortly. For now let me assure that when we marry, you will be afforded the full recognition of my family. I…"

"Excuse me, Mr. Stokes, but I believe you presume too much. I have certainly not agreed to marry you and I see no reason why I should enter the married state again." Elizabeth managed to control her flash of irritation and her tone was civil but lacked any trace of amiability.

"You cannot be ignorant Mrs. Waring of the impropriety of your current state."

"I beg you pardon, sir. I do not have the pleasure of understanding you. I am a widow with two children to raise. It is an unfortunate situation perhaps but hardly uncommon or improper."

"Mrs. Waring, you may be ignorant of what is appropriate but I assure you I am not. You have allied yourself by marriage to the Stokes family. The Earl of _ is a highly distinguished family that stands amongst the foremost in the land. It would not do for a woman attached to the family, even if only by marriage, to behave with such impropriety as to manage an estate. That is the province of men. When we marry, the responsibility will fall to me and I will ensure that the steward deals with all such matters appropriately."

Elizabeth started to speak but his voice overrode hers. "As well, my uncle's children require a man's guidance. My cousin David must learn how to act as a gentleman and no woman can teach him how to do so. I, who have been raised in the most refined circles, am uniquely situated to provide the necessary guidance." His pause was too brief for Elizabeth to respond and she rather felt that she was once more being spoken to by Mr. Collins. A somewhat less insensible one perhaps, but only marginally so. Mr. Stokes' next words brought Mr. Collins to mind even more forcibly.

"I have spoken of my family, Mrs. Waring. My grandfather, the Earl, is amongst the most august personages of the land. My grandmother, Countess _, is the epitome of grace and breeding and will provide the direction and assistance that my young cousin Jane will require if she is to move in the highest circles. You cannot deny them this opportunity, madam. Marriage to me will raise you to the first circles where, after suitable mentoring, I am sure you will conduct yourself appropriately. We…I realize that your background has not prepared you for such a position but be assured that it will not be held against you. The poverty of your connections is to be regretted and the connection to trade deplored but we have chosen to believe that, once separated from them, your condition will be materially improved."

Elizabeth finally found the occasion to speak. She suddenly found that her irritation had dissipated replaced by amusement at the ridiculousness of the proposal that she had just received, although she thought to herself, he has not actually asked me to marry him.

It was all she could do not to laugh and she schooled her features carefully so as to mask the laughter that threatened to bubble up. "You presume too greatly, Mr. Stokes. Let me give you my answer now. I thank you for the…honour of your proposal, but I must refuse."

Stokes's countenance betrayed his shock. He was obviously affronted by her blunt refusal and anger quickly suffused his features. It was several seconds before he could respond.

"Surely you jest! I had thought you a sensible woman. That you would marry my uncle I could well understand. It was, for one in your circumstances, a most prudent match. You cannot now be insensible of the honour and rewards of attaching yourself to my family. It is a circumstance greatly to be prized. "

"On the contrary, Mr. Stokes. Your family has, until now, deemed me unsuitable. The breach in the family occasioned by my marriage was your father's doing, not mine nor my husband's. And, as to your family, I comprehend the honour you think that you are bestowing but I wish for it not."

"You would deprive your children of such a connection? Prevent them from making, in the future, prestigious matches? To have no better connections than persons in trade? It is not to be contemplated, Mrs. Waring. My cousins deserve better than this!"

"I would have them, Mr. Stokes, make such matches as will afford them the greatest felicity in marriage. That they wed where their heart will lead them. As for my connections, my husband did not find them wanting and therefore they can be nothing to you."

Stokes' agitation made him stride back and forth in front of the fireplace, one hand clenched behind his back, the other gesticulating before him.

"Madam, I am astonished! I am speechless! That you would spurn such an exceptional offer speaks poorly for your understanding. It leaves me concerned, madam, as to how my cousin's estate is being managed. Women are not fitted to understand and exercise the responsibilities attendant upon managing an estate like Oaksley. My grandfather when he learned of how my uncle disposed of the estate was extremely perturbed. He feared for my cousin's future provenance."

Elizabeth was rapidly running out of patience. "Your grandfather's opinion is of no concern to me, Mr. Stokes. For your information, Oaksley's income this year is no less than it was in the year previous; and, I might add that, since neither you nor he have any interest in this estate, your concerns are unwarranted."

Before he could continue his argument, Elizabeth rose to her feet. "I believe, sir, that you have said all that needs to be said. You have my answer and now you may be relieved of any responsibility towards my children. I bid you good-day, Mr. Stokes."

Stokes appeared as though he wished to pursue the discussion further; however, the entry of Mr. Turner stopped him from doing so and with only the briefest of bows, he departed the room. His leaving was so rapid as to prevent his noticing that Elizabeth did not accord him even the barest of courtesies and declined to curtsey at all.

As she considered the proposal she had just endured, she rather thought it equalled that of Mr. Collins in foolishness. It was clear that Mr. Stokes and his family had believed her attachment to Anthony Waring was predicated solely upon mercenary motives and that a character driven by such thinking would be receptive to a proposal such as she had just received.

She resolved to forget the matter completely; however, her efforts to do so were unsuccessful for when she visited Malmesbury several days later, she observed Stokes, some distance removed, walking away from her down the street. He was accompanied by another gentleman. There was a sense of familiarity about the latter but the distance was too great and his person obscured by other pedestrians for her to identify him easily. She was disturbed by Stokes' continuing presence in the area. What could he mean by it? But, as she did not see him when she next ventured into Malmesbury, the incident passed from her mind.

Elizabeth's belief that she had heard the last of the Stokes family was proven to be unfounded for, about two months after Nelson Stokes' visit, she received a letter from a solicitor's firm in Manchester.

 __ Street, Manchester,_

 _April 2, 1820_

 _Madam,_

 _It was with no little outrage that I learned some days ago that you spurned my son's offer of marriage. That one from your station in life could be so bereft of sense as to reject a connection with the house of the illustrious Earl of _ is beyond my comprehension. That you were insensible of the honour that was accorded you only confirms my poor opinion of your understanding, intelligence and breeding._

 _Let me assure you that that offer was made only in an attempt to provide a reasonable resolution to the travesty of justice that is represented by the late brother's will. My actions to that point had been withheld in respect for your mourning period; however, as you have now chosen to to deny the legitimate claims of his family, it is my intention to seek redress in the courts of law._

 _I am not ignorant of your circumstances. Concern for my brother induced me to have a very thorough investigation into your background and all that I have learned validates my reservations and justifies the actions that I propose to take. If your family's connection to tradesmen were not sufficient cause to deplore your marriage to my brother, the ruination of your youngest sister could only provide additional grounds. I can only believe my brother, despite his letter, to have been seriously misled about the matter. In view of the seriousness of the situation, he must have been in ignorance of the true particulars because you and your family misrepresented the situation to him. Nowhere is that more evident thanhi8s depletion of the family fortune by settling such an absurd amount as twenty thousand pounds upon you. Given your upbringing and circumstances, a tenth of that amount would be too much and you may be assured, Madam, that when this matter is resolved to my satisfaction, a tenth is all that you shall receive. My brother has, by his actions, deprived my nephew and niece of a substantial portion of their natural inheritance and I will not allow such an injustice to stand._

 _If this were not enough grounds to question your fitness to raise my nephew, your responsibility to manage the Oaksley estate is another. I cannot understand my brother's willingness to allow you to assume such a responsibility. It is well-known that women are not endowed with those characteristics required to accept such a responsibility. To presume that you can do so only displays your mercenary disposition and the weaknesses of your character. As I have also lately been given evidence as to your incompetence on the matter of managing the estate, I will have no qualms in seeking the removal of such responsibility from you. My nephew cannot be allowed to suffer from your incompetence._

 _Let it therefore be known to you that I intend to seek approval from the courts to set aside my brother's will and marriage settlement. You may be assured that my endeavours are likely to meet with success as not only do I possess the credibility and respectability attached to my family and the connection to my father, the Earl of _, but as well I have earned a most advantageous reputation in the legal circles to which I belong and count amongst my closest associates many of the most eminent jurists in the country. It will take little effort on my part to persuade them to see the justice of my claims._

 _I have no wish to expose my family to the public gaze and it was with the expectation that we could avoid doing so that I encouraged my son to approach you with his offer of marriage. He is understandably displeased at your refusal but I believe it would be in the interest of all of us that he renew that offer and that you accept it. Should you fail to respond in a reasonable manner, you may be assured that I will act to redress the injustice inflicted upon my family._

 _Sebastian Stokes, Esq._

It was with no small amount of consternation that Elizabeth read this letter. Her remembrances of her solicitor's comments and the assurances that she had received in the past from her uncle and husband about the settlement, eventually calmed her. Nonetheless she knew she would have to lay the matter before her solicitor and possibly her uncle without delay. A note to Mr. Andrews was sent and a meeting on the morrow arranged.

Unfortunately that meeting did little to assuage her concerns. Mr. Andrews was quite confident that the will and settlement would withstand an impartial review by a judge; however, he admitted to some concern that impartiality might be absent should the matter be brought before a judge with whom Stokes was in close association.

Elizabeth was encouraged by Mr. Andrews to seek legal advice in London and so to London she would go.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter 20**

 **May, 1820 - London**

Elizabeth and her Aunt Gardiner were sitting in a comfortable silence in the Gardiner sitting room. Her aunt had yet to be apprised that Mr. Darcy would call the next day and Elizabeth knew she could not postpone enlightening her any longer. She was not sure why she had delayed doing so. Perhaps the unsettled state of her thoughts was a reason.

"I encountered someone today that I have not met in about eight years."

Mrs. Gardiner looked up at her niece. Something in the overly casual manner of the utterance captured her attention.

"Oh?"

"Yes, David and I were in Gunter's and I was very surprised to be approached by Mr. Darcy."

Mrs. Gardiner made no effort to mask her amazement. "Mr. Darcy? Of Pemberley?"

"The same. He was there with his daughter."

"And?"

"He invited David and me to sit with them."

Mrs. Gardiner felt like she was drawing nails to get more than the simplest information from her niece. She waited.

Elizabeth huffed slightly, "He was very pleasant and appeared pleased to renew the acquaintance."

"This is the Mr. Darcy whom you disliked so greatly, is it not? Who was unpleasant and disdainful and cruel?" Mrs. Gardiner paused for a few seconds before saying, "Although I would assume that any charges of cruelty must be viewed with suspicion given that the source was Mr. Wickham."

"I believe, Aunt, that we were…I was very much mistaken in Mr. Darcy's character."

Mrs. Gardiner was puzzled. It took some few seconds for her to recall what little she remembered.

"His housekeeper at Pemberley spoke very highly of him, did she not?" Mrs. Gardiner spoke slowly. "She was not stinting in her praise of his kindness and care for those under his authority." She laughed, "I even remember her saying that she had not an unkind word from him and she had known him since he was a child."

Elizabeth nodded, "I believe him to be a very good man. And Mr. Wickham, I am afraid, slandered him most cruelly."

Mrs. Gardiner looked at her niece carefully. She recalled a number of incidents that had puzzled her but which, under the press of circumstances at the time, had not scrutinized more thoroughly.

"I seem to recall, Lizzy, that you were not all surprised that Mr. Wickham ruined Lydia and deserted her. In fact, if I remember correctly, you warned us against him when we learned what happened. How was this possible?"

Her niece did not answer for several minutes and Mrs. Gardiner might have been inclined to prod her for a response except that it was clear the reason for Elizabeth's silence was not a reluctance to speak but rather that she was contemplating something of serious moment. Elizabeth's response, when it came, surprised Mrs. Gardiner greatly.

"I believe that Mr. Darcy's request to call on me tomorrow is not simply a matter of civility."

Mrs. Gardiner was initially inclined to question her niece's reasoning but stopped before doing so and allowed herself to consider the matter further. From what little she knew – and the only accounts she had were provided by her niece – the gentleman could not claim more than a slight acquaintance with Elizabeth. That he would ask to call when he could easily have ended the acquaintance at Gunter's suggested an interest in Elizabeth. But how could such an interest have come about? They had not met in eight years.

She finally said tentatively, "Mr. Darcy certainly need not have expressed a desire to call on you. It seems to show a particular interest that I cannot account for."

Elizabeth laughed, "Am I so devoid of attractions that a gentleman would not be interested?"

"Lizzy, you know that was not my meaning!" Mrs. Gardiner shook her head at her niece in mock reproof. "You are more than attractive enough to interest any man and I am not sorry to see that you have captured Mr. Darcy's interest."

Elizabeth smiled but made no response. She seemed about to slip back into her contemplative mood when Mrs. Gardiner spoke again.

"You have have not answered my question, Lizzy. Why, upon such a slight acquaintance and after such a passage of time, would Mr. Darcy pay such particular attentions? It is rather singular, is it not?"

Elizabeth realized that she would have to satisfy at least some portion of her aunt's curiosity and at last she spoke.

"You remember I visited Charlotte at Hunsford in the year twelve? Mr. Darcy was also also there for a few weeks visiting his aunt, Lady Catherine. I was most unkind – almost vicious – in my last dealings with him. We had the most violent argument. I spoke to him most unkindly, most uncivilly. His words to me were….unfortunately phrased as to give rise to an anger I have never before or since felt, and my response was …appalling. I soon came to understand that I had misjudged him greatly."

Mrs. Gardiner was puzzled, "You came to understand? How did that occur?"

Elizabeth explained about the letter Darcy had written, its contents and how she eventually came to accept the sense of what Darcy had written.

"I cannot, now, even hold his interference between Jane and Mr. Bingley to his account." She said. "For much of the responsibility must fall on Mr. Bingley and how can I suggest that he would have made Jane happier that James?" she laughed, "Jane would not hear of it!"

Mrs. Gardiner smiled at the thought and then Elizabeth could see her becoming increasingly thoughtful, her gazed fixed on the vase across the room.

"Aunt?"

Mrs. Gardiner looked over at her niece, "I am sorry. It just struck me. Mr. Darcy must have held you in great esteem to have risked writing to you."

"I suppose so although I think his motives were to answer the charges I held to his account."

"Perhaps, perhaps…although I think you may not be allowing him a full measure of credit. He was, to be sure, answering your charge in respect of Wickham but he was also attempting to protect you, was he not?"

"I had not thought of it in that light." replied Elizabeth, "My thoughts were more concerned with the evidence of how badly I had erred in my judgement of both men. I was never in any danger from Mr. Wickham."

"Ah, but Mr. Darcy could not know that, now could he? He likely thought your anger stemmed from an affection or interest in that gentleman. It is not an unnatural supposition, to be sure.""

Elizabeth was silent, considering this idea but shortly shrugged. It was of no moment now.

Mrs. Gardiner wondered at the shrug but her own thoughts were heading in a different direction.

"How do you feel about Mr. Darcy now, Lizzy?"

Elizabeth smiled wryly, "That has been the subject of much of my thoughts, Aunt."

"I dare say!"

Mrs. Gardiner waited until finally she could not resist a small prompt.

"Will you…encourage his interest, Lizzy?"

"How can I not?" She was pensive for several moments before continuing, "I saw him, you know. At the theatre, several years ago. Anthony and I attended a play – I do not remember the name although we both enjoyed it greatly – and I saw Mr. Darcy with a woman I believed to be his wife in the lobby during an intermission."

"You did not speak to him?"

"No."

Mrs. Gardiner's eyebrows rose. That such an encounter – a glimpse apparently – would be remembered, seemed significant. Her niece's next words confirmed that supposition.

"He looked happy, and I …felt a certain…regret, I suppose."

"Regret?"

Elizabeth laughed, "It was nothing more than regret that I had spoken so cruelly and not taken the opportunity to get to know him better." She looked at her aunt, "Do not suppose that I had any regrets about marrying Anthony. It is simply that I had come to understand that Mr. Darcy was a man worth knowing – no more I assure you."

"And now?"

"And now that I have the opportunity, I want to apologize to him for my incivility. When he comes tomorrow, I wish to talk with Mr. Darcy in private. After I introduce him to you, I had thought that he and I could remove to the garden so that I may do so. "

Mrs. Gardiner was astonished. Whatever she had expected, it was not this. "This has been an evening of many surprises, Lizzy. Why should I be amazed at this?"

"By speaking with him alone, I will be testing your forbearance, I am sure."

"The garden is in full view of the house. I see no issues of propriety given your individual circumstances. But, is it necessary, Lizzy?"

"I do not see how my acquaintance with Mr. Darcy can proceed without it, Aunt."

Mrs. Gardiner saw no reason not to accede to her niece's request and did so. They separated soon after and Elizabeth returned to her room to consider what lay ahead.

Matters of a more pressing nature had, to this point, first claim on her attention. She and her uncle were to visit his solicitor in two days on the matter of Mr. Stokes and much of her focus had hitherto been directed to that end. The possibility of a future with another man had not crossed her mind. She had mourned the death of her husband and felt the loss of his companionship greatly. And, if she were honest with only herself, she missed the physical intimacies she had shared with him; her bed was a lonely place now. She lately had, without any conscious thought, come to believe her remaining days would be spent caring for her children until they married and left. As well, she had begun to appreciate the independence that her widowhood had afforded her and the respect that she had earned by her management of her estate. If she could resolve this situation with the Stokes family to her satisfaction, she would not be bound to the dictates of any other person or situation.

And yet, she could not dismiss her excitement, yes that is what she felt, at seeing Mr Darcy again. She could not mistake his admiration today and his desire to further their acquaintance was obvious. He remained, without a doubt, one of the most handsome men of her acquaintance. She had never been oblivious to his presence and even when she disliked him greatly, he had somehow managed to command her attention.

That he still admired her was a surprise. She had fully expected that the manner of her rejection of his proposal would have smothered any affection that he could hold for her; but that had not been the case. She remembered Charlotte's letters. He had inquired after her particularly and had wished her well on several occasions. Yes, he had married but as she considered that again, it occurred to her that he had only done so after her own marriage. Had he chosen not to marry until he knew for a certainty she had done so? If that was the case, could he not have approached her before then? A matter of two years had passed. Why had he not done so? Then she remembered the words she had spoken. To be told that one was the last man upon which she could be prevailed to marry would surely have dissuaded the most ardent of suitors. She could not be insensible to his interest despite the harshness of those words. Such an interest spoke to a constancy in his affections and, given what she now understood of his character, she could not deny that her own interest had been ignited. She was pleased that her own composure after they met had been such as to encourage his interest to renew their acquaintance and she fully intended to continue her efforts in that regard.

The Darcy carriage pulled up in front of a three story house on Gracechurch Street and Darcy could not help but be impressed. Though it was smaller than his own house on St. James's Square, its outward appearance was equally appealing if not as imposing. Clearly his past conjectures when he first met Elizabeth Bennet as to the position of the Gardiner family must undergo some revision. He had thought little of who he might meet. The knowledge that Mr. Gardiner was Mrs. Bennet's brother was not such as to lead one to expect a sensible man; but when he thought of his friend Bingley and _his_ sister, clearly this supposition was likely as much in error as were many of those in his past dealings with Elizabeth Bennet – Mrs. Waring, he firmly cautioned himself.

Ann-Marie, when questioned, had admitted to liking Mrs. Waring a great deal. Pressed to be more specific, she could only say that she liked her smile and laugh and that Mrs. Waring was kind. However her interest lasted no longer than the attraction of having her father read one of her favourite stories and Darcy rather suspected that she was too young to have recognized her father's interest in the lady.

As he descended his carriage, leaving strict orders to return in thirty minutes, his thoughts were on the meeting that was to come. If he had any object in mind, it was simply to ensure that this was not to be the last encopunter with her. There were matters between them he wished to discuss and hopes that had been reborn the day before, although these could not be divulged as yet. Elizabeth's behaviour yesterday had given him cause to believe her feelings were quite different than they were the last time they met. He was sure that if she still held him in disdain – if her opinion of him had not improved – she would not have expressed as much pleasure in his visiting today.

His card was presented and he was shown into a fair-sized drawing room, simply and elegantly furnished with comfort clearly in mind. Elizabeth was there with a woman some ten years older and a young lady of some fifteen or sixteen years. That his visit was expected became obvious as Elizabeth quickly made the introductions to her aunt, Mrs. Gardiner, and her youngest cousin, Miss Margaret Gardiner. Elizabeth was, he thought, much more reserved than yesterday and Mrs. Gardiner took on the office of conversation. He made every effort to respond and contribute, conscious that Elizabeth's eyes had only rarely left his face. After Darcy and Mrs. Gardiner discussed the weather, Elizabeth realized she must exert herself if she wished to speak with Darcy privately and, at the first opportune moment, addressed him.

"Mr. Darcy, I wonder if I might show you my aunt's garden. She has planted tulips and the sight is quite glorious."

This offer quite surprised Darcy and he cast a quick glance at Mrs. Gardiner to see if she approved. Her slight nod relieved his concern and he was quick to agree. As the day was seasonably warm, Elizabeth wanted to collect but a shawl before leading him through the house and into the back garden. The tulips were soon found and suitably admired.

Darcy had not been unaware that he and Elizabeth were unchaperoned and suspected that this was by her design. His musings were shortly interrupted as Elizabeth stepped several paces away before turning to face him. He looked at her closely; the sun glinted off her hair, brightening and bestowing an additional lustre to it. He could not help but admire her figure. It was as light and graceful as before but now endowed with a womanly maturity that he was hard-pressed not to want in his arms. A spike of desire, so intense that he could hardly stop himself from moving towards her, paralyzed him, making him almost oblivious to her first words.

"Mr. Darcy, I hope my invitation to show you the garden does not offend your sense of propriety, however, I could not pass up the opportunity to speak to you privately. My aunt was slightly reluctant to agree to my wishes but has done so, although she remains in ignorance as to my purpose."

Darcy forced himself to a degree of calmness and began to wonder at her intent. The last time they had been alone had not been propitious for his equanimity. He could not bear it should she wish to end their acquaintance before he had a chance to breathe life into it. Her next words caught him quite by surprise.

"I wish….. No, I need, Mr. Darcy, to express my regret at the manner in which I refused your proposal in Hunsford. I abused you most abominably and I was not long in learning how mistaken I was in your character. I have always regretted that I was not afforded an opportunity to apologize for my incivility."

"What did you say to me that I did not deserve? True, there were mistakes and misunderstandings, most of which of my own making, but your reproofs of me forced me to look at myself through the eyes of another. I did not like what I saw and I resolved to amend my manners and treatment of others." He paused for a moment or two before mentioning his letter.

"Did it make you think better of me?"

She explained its effect on her and how gradually all her former prejudices had been removed. He was heartened by these words and resolved to make his interest and intentions known to her. He had not thought to act so precipitously but her apology appeared to him to afford an opportunity that he could ill-afford to ignore. He hoped that the unexpectedness of the moment did not leave him as inarticulate in her presence as had been the case in the past.

Before he could voice his thoughts, a maid appeared with a message. His carriage had arrived as requested. He should go as the proper time for a call had lapsed but he found himself most reluctant to do so. He turned to Elizabeth.

"Would I be imposing on you and your aunt to stay for a while longer? I find that our conversation is not…complete."

Elizabeth sensed in his tone of voice an urgency to talk further and simply nodded her assent. Darcy turned to the maid, smiled and asked that she instruct his coachman to return home and that he, Darcy, would make other arrangements. Once the maid had departed to carry out his instructions, he turned to Elizabeth saying, "It will not be the first time I have used a Hackney to carry me home."

"Oh dear, I do hope that Miss Bingley does not espy you. Her illusions will be hopeless shattered."

"Miss Bingley can have, I assure you, neither illusions nor hopes with regard to me, Mrs. Waring."

Elizabeth snorted and Darcy found himself grinning, almost foolishly.

"It may be too soon, Mrs. Waring, and I hope you will not be offended by what I say next; but you must allow me to tell you that those affections which I expressed so poorly in Hunsford still reside in my heart." He glanced at Elizabeth's face and could detect nothing but surprise at his declaration. Before she could respond, he continued.

"I am not normally an impetuous man, Mrs. Waring but I fear that you possess the ability to overset me completely." He ventured a small smile and was rewarded with a pleasing blush on her face.

"Mr. Darcy, I…"

"Mrs. Waring, my only hope at the moment is that you will not send me away." He looked at her expectantly and was rewarded with a slight shake of her head. This was sufficient encouragement for him to continue.

"After … Hunsford, I was convinced that you were quite resolved against me. I was angry, and it took me a while to really hear the words you spoke that night at the parsonage. When I finally understood the truth of what you said, I attempted to correct those faults which you so rightly identified."

"I was certainly very far from expecting what I said to make so strong an impression. I had not the smallest idea of it ever being felt in such a way."

"I can easily believe it. You thought me then devoid of every proper feeling – I am sure you did. But I am only mentioning it now so as to explain my hesitation in pursuing you further. I could, at the time, simply see no means of coming into company with you that would not discomfit either of us. I had considered returning to Hertfordshire, you know, but could think of no way to do so without making my intentions obvious. Your final words to me – that I was the last man you could be prevailed upon to marry – made me believe that such a direct approach would not be welcomed."

He paused and looked down. "You are probably unaware of this, but I even confessed to Bingley my error in separating him and your sister as well – not because I hoped to make you think better of me, but because it was the right thing to do. After that, however, I had hoped that if Bingley renewed his suit with Miss Bennet, I would have the opportunity to meet you, to show you how I had changed and to court you as you deserved. Unfortunately, that was not meant to be. I could not convince Bingley to return to Netherfield."

Elizabeth did not hide her surprise at this revelation but quickly assured Darcy that the issue was no longer of concern as her sister was was exceedingly happy in her marriage. Darcy was more than content to leave the matter to another and later time should she wish to discuss it.

"Then our meeting in Gunter's was most fortuitous, was it not, Mr. Darcy? Somewhat delayed perhaps, but fortuitous nonetheless."

"Indeed it was Mrs. Waring.

I…" his suddenly found himself reluctant to press the matter further until he reminded himself of Montrose's Toast.

He murmured, "He either fears his fate too much, or his deserts are small, who dares not put it to the touch, to win or lose it all."

"And what do you fear to dare, sir, that you would quote Lord Montrose?"

Darcy was disconcerted that she had overheard him, but gathering his courage, stated, "You, madam!"

"I had not realized I was such a fearsome object, Mr. Darcy. It is quite ungallant of you."

Her slight smile and the lilt of her voice told him that she was teasing him and his hopes rose in response. But before he could make his wishes known, he had an apology of his own to proffer. The thought of disturbing the harmony that had been created between them was unpleasant and his thoughts could not help but linger on the unhappy subject he felt obligated to raise. If Mrs. Waring could gather the courage to offer an apology, he could do no less.

"Mrs. Waring. Allow me to apologize for my silence. I have allowed the past to intrude upon us and I wish it were not necessary but I can not – my honour will not allow me to avoid a duty which can afford neither of us any pleasure."

Elizabeth looked at him in surprise. She could think of nothing that he need apologize for and said as much.

"I beg to differ, Mrs. Waring. I have much that needs your forgiveness."

He squared his shoulders and faced her directly.

"I did not learn of Mr. Wickham's actions against your family until almost a year had passed. Your cousin apprised me of the particulars when I once more visited my aunt. I admit to being surprised at the vituperative manner in which he spoke of your family. My aunt, unfortunately, spoke no more kindly. I could not restrain myself and chastised them both. Suffice it to say that my visit that year was shortened. I could not bear the company of either. You must allow me to apologize, Mrs. Waring, for allowing Wickham to harm your family. I failed to protect you; I, who knew what he was, should have made it impossible for him to have been received by any decent family or woman. My pride, my abominable pride, would not allow me to expose him, and you and your family have suffered grievously."

Elizabeth was silent. Never had she expected this proud man to humble himself so and yet she could not allow him to bear more than his fair portion of the blame for Lydia's ruin.

"You take too much responsibility upon yourself, Mr. Darcy. You are not to blame for my sister's foolishness and impetuosity, or for Mr. Wickham's vicious propensities. Let us place the blame fully on those to whom it most rightly belongs." She smiled up at him ruefully, "If you wish to take a portion of the blame, know that you must share it with myself and my sister Jane, we who both knew of Mr. Wickham's character due to your kindness, said nothing, and with my mother who was so lost to sensibility as to see nothing improper in any of Lydia's behaviour, and most surely to my father whose duty of care for his daughters and his family was most assuredly lacking. No, sir, there is a measure of blame to be spread around but your share is but a minor portion of it." She looked up at him once more and stated firmly, "I will accept your apology, sir, although it is hardly necessary now."

Darcy pondered her words and they wandered around the garden aimlessly in silence for several minutes while he did so. Finally he nodded, "It shall be as you wish, Mrs. Waring."

Elizabeth found she could not remove her eyes from his countenance. She had forgotten how tall he was, standing several inches taller than her husband. His features remained sombre and she was about to inquire as to the cause when he asked, "Tell me, Mrs. Waring. Have you heard from your sister at all?"

"Lydia?" At his nod she said, "No, not a word in eight years."

A silence fell between them; his mien was thoughtful and, she believed, distressed. Her supposition was proven correct when he spoke next.

"I searched for her, you know. You may recall from my letter that I had a contact of Wickham's – Mrs. Younge. I discovered she had met with Wickham after he left Brighton with your sister. Unfortunately, she knew nothing of what happened after Wickham deserted her. I was, however, able to convince Mrs. Younge to tell me of Wickham's location, but when I caught up with him, he could not or would not – I cannot be sure although I suspect he would have sold the information if it were in his possession – tell me aught of your sister's whereabouts. From what little he did say, I fear that her future was bleak. He left her in the worst of circumstances and I could find no trace of her whatsoever after that. I am very sorry."

She nodded unable to speak. Her first thoughts were for her sister and then the significance of what he had done struck her. He had searched for her sister! She suddenly felt a need to sit and stumbled towards the nearby bench. The thought echoed in her mind. He had searched for her sister! Someone of no consequence to him. Why had he done so? She could not believe he had been disinterested in the matter. Had he done it for her? Such questions she could not as yet ask and yet she had done so as for she clearly heard herself say, "Why? I do not understand."

"Why, Mrs. Waring?"

Elizabeth could not unsay her question. The only option was to press ahead. "Yes, why would you do such a thing?"

Darcy had not expected this inquiry and paused for several moments to collect his thoughts. He would not, could not, dissemble.

"I suppose I could claim it was done out of a feeling of responsibility. It was my mistake that led to her…situation; but, in truth, Mrs. Waring, I did it because I could not bear to think of you suffering over the fate of your sister if it were in my power to amend her circumstances. I thought only of _you_."

Elizabeth looked at him, overcome with emotions. she could not find the words to fully express her approbation and could only say, "Thank you."

Darcy had not missed the warmth of her expression and allowed her some few moments to regain her composure before he said, "I do not know if it can be of any satisfaction to you but Wickham was not allowed to prey on any other young women. I bought up all his debts, and, as well, he was court-martialled for desertion. He was fortunate that his commision was in the miltia. My cousin assured me that if he had been in the regular army, he would have hung. As it was Wickham was transported to Australia to serve a seven year prison term. Despite my father's affection for him and my desire to honour my father's memory, I cannot find it in myself to grieve Wickham's punishment."

Elizabeth felt herself unable to respond. She had long been resigned to Lydia's fate but it was hard to learn that her worst suppositions were likely true. She felt a handkerchief pressed into her hand and only then did she feel the tears that streaked her cheeks.

"I am grieved, Mrs. Waring, for having distressed you."

"You have no need, sir, to be concerned. You have only confirmed what I long feared." She paused for a few moments before stating firmly, "I too cannot regret Mr. Wickham's fate. It is, I know, unchristian of me, but there it is. I cannot forgive him. Lydia was foolish – one of the silliest girls in the country my father would often say - but she did not deserve to be treated so."

Darcy made no response. He could think of nothing to say and it was only with some difficulty that he resisted the need to surround her with his arms, to comfort her – and himself, he acknowledged – with his presence. Elizabeth finally interrupted his thoughts.

"You are very quiet again, Mr. Darcy. Shall we return to the house?"

Darcy felt a sense of panic. He had steeled himself to declare his interest and had yet to do so, but he sensed that the moment was not the most propitious for such an endeavour.

"May I beg the favour of your company here for a few more seconds, Mrs. Waring?"

Elizabeth readily assented.

Taking her hand, he confessed, "I have trespassed on your tolerance a great deal today, Mrs. Waring. You can, I hope, be in no doubt of my affections. May I call on you, again?"

He felt her eyes searching his face for a moment before her response was provided. "I should like that, Mr. Darcy." She smiled, "I find I tolerate your company quite well indeed."

Darcy could not, and did not wish to, suppress his pleasure.

"Would tomorrow be acceptable? There is an attractive park not far from here and, if the weather permits, we might walk. I am sure that you still retain your love of walking, do you not?"

"That would, I believe, be most enjoyable, Mr. Darcy." Elizabeth hesitated for a brief moment before continuing, "I have an engagement in the morning but will be free in the afternoon."

A time was quickly agreed upon and with his hopes higher and his mood better than either had been in years, Darcy took his departure.

"I must admit that Mr. Darcy was quite unlike your descriptions of him. My memory must be faulty after such a span of time but I seem to remember you describing him as proud and haughty with a most disagreeable manner. Certainly his manner and behaviour during his visit here was most civil and pleasant. He was perfectly well behaved, polite and unassuming. There is something a little stately in him, to be sure; but it is confined to his air and is not unbecoming." Her aunt paused for some seconds wrapped in thought, "Of course, I remember his housekeeper at Pemberley was quite free with her praises of him."

"I thought then that there could hardly be a better reference to a man's character than the approval of a trusted and intelligent servant. Having been mistress of my own estate for the last few years, I have come to value such advice and trust its purveyors."

"I confess I was very pleased with your Mr. Darcy, Lizzy. There is something pleasing about his mouth when he speaks; and there is something of dignity in his countenance that would not give one an unfavourable idea of his heart."

"He is hardly my Mr. Darcy, aunt."

"Really, Lizzy? I can think of no other reason for his calling on you again unless he has an interest in you. Politeness or civility might account for today's visit. His calling on you tomorrow is very much a statement of his admiration. I think you must consider the matter carefully."

"I assure you, Aunt, that I have done so."

"Do you believe his interest is serious?"

"Very much so, Aunt."

Mrs. Gardiner sat in a reflective silence for several minutes. Elizabeth had no inclination to disturb her as her own thoughts were reliving her time with Darcy. She had been astounded to learn that the quarter hour she had allotted for her apology had stretched to almost an hour and a half. When he left she was only sorry that she would not see him until the next day. Her musings were interrupted by her aunt's next words.

"It would be a splendid match, Lizzy. On a great many levels."

Elizabeth stared at Mrs. Gardiner, her expression quizzical. She waited for her aunt to explain. Mrs. Gardiner smiled. Her niece, she realized, had also learned the value of silence in forcing explanations.

"I will not speak of his fortune or his estate. You know them as well as I. He…"

"I might marry him only to become Mistress of Pemberley, aunt. Surely no one who has seen Pemberley could fault me for doing so?" the seriousness of Elizabeth's voice belied by her grin.

"Be serious, Lizzy," huffed Mrs. Gardiner, not at all discomposed by her niece's teasing. "You have an independence that most women would envy. You need not remarry but there are – and I hope you will consider them, if you have not already done so – compelling reasons why you should."

Elizabeth smiled at her aunt, "And pray tell, having survived the trials of one marriage, why should I venture into another."

"I saw no evidence that your marriage was a trial, Lizzy."

"No, Aunt, you saw none because there was none. Anthony was as fine a husband as I could have wished for."

"I am sure he was. But that does not speak to the matter."

Elizabeth's eyebrow rose as she replied, "Then speak to me, oh wise and venerable Aunt. I will accord you my ears."

Mrs. Gardiner shook her head at her niece's teasing but recognizing that the invitation had been extended, even if a trifle facetiously, she would not refuse the opportunity.

"First of all, Lizzy, you are only eight and twenty. That is too young to accept widowhood and a solitary life. I do not believe you to be one who would wish to live alone – and yes, I know the children are there but they are hardly the same company as a husband you respect and love."

Mrs. Gardiner fixed her gaze on Elizabeth until she had elicited a reluctant nod and then continued, "As well, I believe David will need a father as he grows older. My sons have learned much from my husband that I could never have taught them. Even my daughters needed and valued their father – as will yours. Trust me on this, Lizzy. Your children will be better for having a father in their lives."

Mrs. Gardiner hesitated before saying, "I would also think that a husband of Mr. Darcy's consequence would lay to rest any thoughts that others might have as to your guardianship of your children. I dare say Mr. Stokes will be extremely reluctant to stand in opposition to the Darcy family."

"I had not thought of that I admit."

Mrs. Gardiner cast a wary eye at her niece whose demeanour remained thoughtful. The next matter was of a delicate nature but she believed she knew Elizabeth well enough to suspect that marital intimacies held no fear for her and considerable pleasure.

"I am sure you miss Anthony's company a great deal, Lizzy. As you know, a husband is not simply a companion. You are, as I said, only eight and twenty. You would not, I hope, wish to deprive yourself of such pleasures as might be found in the marriage bed for the rest of your life."

Mrs. Gardiner paused for several seconds before saying, "And Mr. Darcy appears to admire you a great deal, Lizzy. I cannot imagine that such admiration will not be brought to the marriage bed."

When Elizabeth did not respond, her aunt continued, "Well, you do not need to make a decision as yet. He is to call tomorrow. Things have a way of working themselves out if we allow them to do so. He wishes to further an acquaintance with you and you will have the opportunity to get to know him better."

Elizabeth allowed that her aunt was correct and the ladies shortly thereafter separated to their rooms.

When she was finally alone, Elizabeth allowed herself to consider her reaction to Darcy's attentions. For he had not left immediately after taking his leave of her aunt. A hackney cab was not to arrive for some five minutes and she had accompanied him to the front door as he waited. They had talked quietly for several minutes. Somehow, without her quite realizing it, her hands were both clasped by his and his thumbs were stroking the backs of hers. It was oddly comforting and pleasurable. As the cab drew up to the front of the house, Darcy lifted each hand to his lips and pressed the softest of kisses on the inside of her wrist. Her breath stopped only to begin again as he whispered, "Until tomorrow, Mrs. Waring."

He glanced up at her face and something he saw must have pleased him greatly for as open a smile as she had never seen before illuminated his face. There was happiness and, she thought, a touch of satisfaction.

She could only murmur, "Tomorrow."

Arrogant, insufferable man! She thought with some amusement. Odd how such terms no longer displeased her.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter 21**

 **Manchester**

The solicitor, Mr. Evans, was unhappy. No, he thought, that was probably an understatement. He was going to have to impart unpleasant news to the gentleman who faced him across his desk. If there was an aspect of the situation which provided some relief it was that it was not his desk. He had been instructed to wait upon his client. A request masking a command, as his client would not have considered for a moment calling at his office. Given his client's standing in the legal community, he would have treated any such expectation by his solicitor as the grossest of impertinences. Mr. Evans knew that he must tread carefully, for to insult his client could savage his own professional prospects. His client had too much influence with those upon which a solicitor must rely for his business. He realized, if it were his office and his client became as obstreperous as he was known to become on occasion, the prospect of getting him to leave quietly might be….difficult. Here, he could take his leave should he choose to do so, albeit with some loss of dignity.

He shuffled the papers which he had been pretending to peruse for the last five minutes. In truth, he hardly had a need to even bother reading them once he learned the object of the meeting. Nonetheless he had done so. It would not do to insult his client by such an action as it would be tantamount to labelling him an imbecile. He rather thought his client, despite being a well-known barrister, must bear more than a passing resemblance to one if he thought his case had any merit. He could not afford, in any way, to let his true thoughts colour his advice; at the same time there was no manner in which he proceed with such a case. He, as well as his client, would be a laughing-stock, should he do so.

"Mr. Stokes," he began carefully, "I have reviewed the documents you have given me. There is nothing missing?"

Mr. Evans had to express the hope, faint though it likely was, that additional and more useful documents might be available.

"No." Stokes retorted. He appeared slightly surprised that he question had to be asked.

The solicitor was silent for several seconds pondering how to phrase his response. Stokes grew impatient.

"Come, man. You have read the papers thoroughly. I wish to proceed with this case as quickly as possible." There was a sharpish, unpleasant tone to Stokes' voice.

Mr. Evans could discern no escape from a most distasteful duty.

"Mr. Stokes, I have read all the evidence you provided and reviewed all of the relevant guardianship and trustee cases recently decided by the Chancery Court. While I understand your position, unfortunately, I must inform you that the legal precedents in such cases do not support a decision in your favour, and I advise against proceeding with this case."

There was a brief moment of silence. "Not proceed! You cannot be serious, Mr. Evans," snapped Stokes, his voice rising in anger. He visibly calmed himself and leaned back in his chair to contemplate the solicitor for several moments.

"I cannot credit that you would tender such advice, Mr. Evans." Mayhap, thought Stokes, a small threat might prove useful. "Perhaps this case is too much for you, sir. Should I consult another solicitor?" He leaned forward in his chair, bringing his face closer to Evans. It was a tactic he had ofttimes found quite useful when a touch of intimidation might prove effective.

Oddly, he could not see that his threat appeared to greatly distress Mr. Evans although the solicitor could not be insensible to the implications for his business should he irritate or lose such a prestigious client.

Evans collected himself and marshalled his thoughts. While he would rather lose the client than have to support a case likely to make him and his client appear ridiculous, he would rather do neither if that were possible.

"It is, of course, your prerogative, Mr. Stokes, to seek other counsel." He said slowly, "however, before you do so, may I explain my reasons for proffering such advice?"

Stokes leaned back in his chair and waved his hand briefly which Evans interpreted as a sign to proceed.

"You have asked me to challenge Mrs. Waring as guardian to your niece and nephew. As I am sure you know, the Chancery Court is extremely reluctant to overturn guardianship arrangements which have been established in a will or a marriage settlement. Those pertaining to the deceased Mr. Waring's children were written into both documents. The law is quite clear on this point – a father has the right to appoint guardians for his children until they turn one and twenty and that appointment is binding. There is no legal impediment to the appointment of the children's mother as a guardian and it is almost impossible to successfully contest a testamentary guardian unless you can establish that he, or she, is unfit to oversee their physical safety and economic well-being."

"That is exactly what I am attempting to do! Contest the fitness of Mrs. Waring to be the guardian of my niece and nephew and trustee over my nephew's estate. Since you advise me that you are familiar with recent decisions on such matters, surely you can appreciate the significance of the ruling in Shelley versus Westbrooke. For the very first time, the Court denied a father guardianship over his own children in order to protect the children's moral values. Surely that precedent is applicable here!"

Evans was rather surprised that Stokes would reference that case as the particulars were in no wise similar. He was careful to sound as reasonable as he could. It would serve him poorly to offend this client.

"Indeed they did, sir. But that was very much a special case."

Stokes made a sound that Evans could only interpret as disgust.

"Mr. Shelley, as you know, led a most….reprehensible life. His children were in the care of his late wife's family and he wanted custody although why this was so I have never understood. But, there it was. He sued to gain custody. The court rejected his suit despite almost always assigning guardianship to a father." Mr. Evans shook his head. "It was an exception, sir. It was not that Mr. Shelley was of a dissipative character, but that he had the right to control the education of his children. The court felt that such education would reflect his character – immoral and vicious – and his beliefs would be presented to the children as being acceptable. He was essentially deemed unfit to instruct his children according to the standards of our society."

"And your point, Mr. Evans?"

Evans thought that was obvious but masked any expression of incredulity in his response. "Have you reason to suspect that Mrs. Waring is possessed of such immorality? That she is not fit to oversee the instruction of her children?"

Stokes snorted, "She is a shameless fortune-hunter, she ….seduced my brother Waring and drew him into marriage, estranged him from his family, hid the depravity of her own sister. Is this not enough? And she now has control of his fortune and his estate."

Evans listened with some amazement to these charges.

Mr. Stokes, It may be possible to submit a case for custody if what you say can be verified." He paused as he considered one of the points listed by Stokes. "… although I doubt we could claim that Mr. Waring was misled as to Mrs. Waring's sister. The letter he left with his will clearly states his full awareness of her situation."

Evans continued, "Have you something to substantiate your other claims, sir? You had her investigated I believe?"

"Indeed."

Evans waited for Stokes to supply the fruits of such an investigation. When nothing further was said, he ventured to ask, "May I have a look at the report, if there is one?" He rather suspected that the report, should it exist, contained little that would cast Mrs. Waring in a poor light. He was slightly surprised when Stokes, after a brief hesitation, unearthed a small document from a drawer of his desk and handed it to him, saying, "This was compiled shortly after Miss Bennet married my brother-in-law."

Evans scanned the document quickly. As he suspected, there was nothing that could be used to disparage Mrs. Waring. Closing the document, he looked at Stokes with some concern.

"Mr. Stokes, this report will not serve your purpose at all. In fact, if I might be so bold, it would be better presented by Mrs. Waring. By all accounts as included here," and he tapped the report, "Mrs. Waring is an exemplary young woman and I do not believe you will be successful in attacking her moral fitness to serve as guardian for her children."

"What of her unsuitability to serve as trustee over my late brother's estate? She is incapable of managing Oaksley and will endanger my nephew's inheritance if she is permitted to continue in that capacity. I have evidence of problems she has caused managing the estate since her husband's death in sworn testimony from Oaksley's former steward, a man Mrs. Waring boldly dismissed a few months ago." Stokes pulled out a document and began to read a list of the allegations against Mrs. Waring.

"What is the name of the former steward, Mr. Stokes?"

"John Seaton."

"That is very curious."

"Curious?" responded Stokes with puzzled look.

"Do you know any of the particulars as to the reason for his dismissal?"

Stokes shook his head.

"It is strange that Mrs. Waring would dismiss an experienced steward – and with Mr. Crowley's support I assume – and one that had been appointed by her husband before his demise. How long had Mr. Seaton held the position?"

Stokes admitted his ignorance.

Mr. Evans was clearly dissatisfied with the prospect of relying on evidence from the dismissed steward and Stokes inquired as to his reasons. Mr. Evans was not hesitant to voice his concerns.

"From what evidence we have, Mrs. Waring is of good character and rather intelligent. I fear that she would not dismiss an experienced steward unless there is some valid reason for doing so. If that is the case and it could be proven, then Mr. Seaton may be nothing more than a disgruntled man and his word, worthless." He shook his head, "In such a circumstance we will be not able to rely on his testimony to establish Mrs. Waring's unsuitability to manage the estate and could damage our suit by presenting an unreliable witness."

Mr. Evans continued, "But none of this matters, Mr. Stokes. Even if you were able to successfully attack the moral fitness of Mrs. Waring or her inability to manage Oaksley, the Court would look to Mr. Crowley to serve as guardian and trustee in her place, as directed by Mr. Waring's will, and, if he should be unavailable, your own son-in-law would be named. In short, the possibility of your being able to successfully remove three individuals named as testamentary guardians by Mr. Waring, is virtually non-existent."

Evans shook his head, "This is the basis for my advice against pursuing this matter."

"And if I should choose to do so against your advice, Mr. Evans?" the tenor of Stokes voice had risen once more. "I cannot imagine that this…woman will be prepared to face me in a court of law. I am well regarded in the courts hereabouts. She would be a fool to challenge me."

Evans could detect something in Stokes' voice and manner that concerned him although it did not appear that a threat was implied. Why Stokes would consider pressing such a suit was beyond his comprehension; however, he could not allow himself to become involved.

"It is that very regard in which you are held that requires me to dissuade you from pursuing this matter; I am concerned that your case will be ill-received and that may harm your reputation. And although I do not doubt your assessment that the local courts here would support you, please remember that matters of guardianship must be brought in the Court of Chancery in London under the auspices of the Lord Chancellor or Vice Chancellor." He could see Stokes visibly bothered by his statement although why he would expect the case to be presented to the local courts was something else that was beyond his comprehension.

"As I have advised, I do not believe your suit has a chance of succeeding and I am sure that, should I represent you under such circumstances, you would have a concern as to how effectively I could act on your behalf given my stated objections to the suit. Rather than incur such suspicions I encourage you to engage another solicitor to represent you."

Stokes only grunted in displeasure and was silent for several long moments before responding. "I will consider what you have said. If I decide to file an action in Chancery Court, however, I will expect you to represent me as you always have." Stokes rose from behind his desk and pulled the bell to summon a footman. "I thank you for your time. Good-day."

Later that evening Nelson Stokes entered his father's study.

"You desired to speak to me father?"

Sebastian Stokes waved his son to the chair fronting his desk and considered him carefully. The only evidence of his inner agitation was the tapping of his fingers on the arm of his chair. His son knew him too well to attempt to hurry his father's response.

"Tell me again, son, how Mrs. Waring responded to your offer of marriage."

Nelson Stokes did so. His father liked this telling as little as he liked the first.

"Do you expect she would respond more favourably to my suit now that she has read your letter?"

Stokes shook his head. His son looked at him questioningly. Stokes picked up a letter from his desk and pushed it towards his son who picked it up to read.

"Her solicitor responded." said Stokes, "In essence he told us to sue and be d_d."

Nelson finished his perusal, "They are confident then?"

"Very, and Evans is of a like opinion."

"What says Evans of Mrs. Waring's inability to manage Oaksley? Surely Mr. Seaton's sworn statement of her lack of skills and the likelihood that it will impact the profitability of the estate and harm her son's economic interests should be persuasive."

Stokes glared at his son. "Mr. Evans is not at all convinced that Mr. Seaton is a reliable witness. I am compelled to agree with him. It may well be that you have been taken for a fool. I do not know what your Mr. Seaton hopes to gain from his allegations against Mrs. Waring. Mr. Evans is of the opinion that there may well be no foundation for his accusations."

Nelson Stokes shrugged, "So It is a hopeless case?"

"Legally, yes, although I have not yet decided against filing the case and taking my chances, given my influence and that of our family." Stokes' voice became sharper with frustration. "But regardless of whether or not I pursue legal action, we shall not capitulate in our efforts to gain control of Oaksley. No more time must be lost. She must marry you and soon. No other option is acceptable."

Nelson Stokes was perturbed. Mrs. Waring was now a very wealthy widow. If she remarried, under the laws of England all of her property would be owned by her husband, and he intended to be that husband. He had counted on the threat of losing guardianship over her children to convince Mrs. Waring to accept his suit and he was not about to give up now. He had been raised with the expectation that Oaksley would be his one day. When his uncle married, that prospect was lost and he knew he would have to find employment, something he did not look upon with favour as he had found no occupation that interested him. However, with his uncle's death, the possibility of inheriting was reborn. Mr. Waring's children were young and might not survive to adulthood, and he was next in line to inherit after them. Moreover, as their new father, he would have control over their funds and oversee management of the estate in trust for them. Of course, that prospect interested him less than the idea of being able to spend the estate's income. His father had imbued in him the conviction that, as a gentleman with ties to the peerage, he need not work. Management of the estate should be left to a steward.

At the moment he lived at his father's sufferance. How long that could last he knew not; but he was in agreement with his father. He would approach Mrs. Waring again and this time she would be made aware of the consequences of refusing him. She must marry him. There could be no other choice.

"You must ask her again." his father stated. "But this time I shall accompany you and make clear to Mrs. Waring what shall happen should she choose to defy me and refuse your offer. If she will not accept you, we will have to consider what can be done to force her hand."

 _ **London**_

Elizabeth's meeting that morning had gone very well. The solicitor recommended by her Uncle Gardiner had been puzzled after reading the letter from Mr. Stokes and learning of the marriage offer from Nelson Stokes as to how they could hope to achieve their object of obtaining guardianship and setting aside a marriage settlement.

"It just is not done, Mrs. Waring." He exclaimed, "Not after so many years. I have never heard the like."

Noting the worry on her face, he looked directly at Elizabeth. "It is not usually prudent for a solicitor to provide his clients absolute reassurance that they will prevail in any action brought against them; many things could happen to prevent a case from being decided as expected. However, I believe I can make an exception in your situation. Mrs. Waring, you have nothing to be concerned about regarding Mr. Stokes' threats to have your jointure reduced and to replace you as guardian. If he proceeds, he will be a laughing stock in the legal community and amongst his social peers."

"The jointure issue is rather basic. Even if Mr Stokes were to produce evidence establishing the unreasonableness of the jointure and is successful in setting it aside or even reducing it, you would be entitled to your dower rights instead of the jointure. Based on my understanding of the size of your late husband's estate, your dower rights may actually be greater than the amount of your jointure."

"Regarding Mr. Stokes' threats to challenge you as the guardian of your children, the law is quite clear. Mr. Waring's appointment of testamentary guardians in his will is binding and the Chancery Court will only intervene if all of the appointed guardians are deemed unfit to serve. In short, Mr. Stokes would not only have to prove your unsuitability to serve as guardian, he would have to successfully attack Mr. Crowley and Mr. Hart's fitness as well. That, he will most certainly be unable to do."

"As we agreed in our recent correspondence, I have responded to Mr Stokes on your behalf advising him he has no case. I did not include the letter from your late husband's long time steward, Mr Robert Seaton, attesting to your capability to manage Oaksley. If, as you suspect, Mr Seaton's son is behind Stokes' allegations regarding your unfitness as trustee over Oaksley, that letter should silence Stokes on the matter. However I would prefer to hold it in abeyance until such time as Mr. Stokes takes action. I understand you dismissed the younger Mr. Seaton from your employment."

Elizabeth then shared with her solicitor her history with John Seaton and that he was dismissed for misconduct.

The solicitor interrupted. "Excuse me, Mrs. Waring, please explain that situation. What misconduct? And how was the matter handled?"

Elizabeth settled herself more comfortably in her chair and described all that had happened. It was some time later that her solicitor, having listened carefully to all that was revealed and, having asked such questions as were necessary to clarify one or two issues, nodded and suggested that he write to the dismissed steward on her behalf. He thought it prudent to remind him that she still had the right to pursue criminal charges against him for his misconduct and was prepared to do so if he did not immediately cease his effort to malign her reputation. Elizabeth agreed and was informed that the letter would be sent the following day.

Although greatly relieved by her solicitor's belief in the lack of substance regarding Mr. Stokes' threats and that his chances of prevailing based on the law were virtually nil, Elizabeth required reassurance for one additional concern. "What of Mr. Stokes' claims that his reputation and standing with the judicial community will ensure his success in any action he files against me? Will the court disregard legal precedent and rally around an action brought by one of its own?"

Her solicitor chuckled as he considered his response. "I believe Mr. Stokes overestimates his own influence, Mrs. Waring. Certainly he is just another relative of a peer in London. And any action he files, if he does file, must be brought here in London in the Chancery Court – it is the only court with jurisdiction to hear guardianship matters. I can assure you that whatever influence Mr. Stokes may have in Manchester, where he may be a respected barrister, will have no effect on the decision of the Chancery Court in London."

"Permit me to bring up the one thing we have not yet addressed - Nelson Stokes' offer of marriage to you. Although not a legal matter, I am greatly concerned that he will continue to pursue you in the expectation that he will eventually be successful. I cannot stress enough the need to consider your safety when leaving your home and to be accompanied by someone able to protect you from an unwanted meeting with him."

Elizabeth thanked him for his advice and they left the solicitor's office shortly thereafter with the intention of meeting again if they heard anything further from Stokes. Despite the solicitor's confidence in the soundness of her position, particularly with the support of Mr. Crowley, Elizabeth could not suppress a tendril of worry regarding what the Stokeses would do next.

It was still worrying her as she sat awaiting Darcy's arrival. Elizabeth could not separate her concern over the Stokeses' threats from her anticipation of his visit. Her nerves had not been made easier by the fact she had garnered little sleep the previous night. Surprisingly, thoughts of Mr. Darcy predominated; that she had little cause to think of him in the intervening years since her last encounter at Hunsford, she had admitted to her aunt. In this she was only slightly truthful. For two years or more afterwards, he had frequently been in her thoughts; she had almost as long been ashamed of ever feeling a dislike against him. Indeed, after reading his letter several times at Hunsford, she had soon begun to think well of him. But it was not until Lydia eloped that she fully understood her own wishes; she knew then, when all hope was in vain, that she could have loved him as he had loved her. Only time itself had dimmed her memories of him.

When Anthony Waring began to court her, she would not allow thoughts of Mr. Darcy to distract her. And now he had reappeared and had awoken such expectations that she hardly knew herself. He admired her, she knew; now she realized he desired her as a man desires a woman and the thought was not displeasing. Not at all! It was warming and exhilarating.

The day itself proved to have satisfied all of Mr. Darcy's expectations. A warm, sunny day in mid-May would allow for a pleasant walk if the conversation between them was equally enjoyable. His manner when he greeted her and her aunt was as it was in their previous meeting and Elizabeth found herself greeting him with a smile that contained as much warmth as she had intended. His response was immediate and she found herself blushing slightly at the happiness his features displayed. She had always allowed him to be a handsome man but never had he seemed more attractive than now, when he smiled at her.

The attendance of a maid who followed behind them at a discrete distance did not inhibit their conversation. The separation between them and the maid was such as to ensure that their conversation was not overheard although there was little in their initial exchanges to have made privacy necessary. Elizabeth found him more willing to converse than ever before. Their conversations during their walks at Hunsford had been mostly silent with awkward exchanges – to which she could not but censure herself when she remembered that she had made little or no effort to engage him in an agreeable fashion. Now he was exerting himself to capture her attention, even if the topics were of little more significance than the weather, the state of her health and that of her children and his enjoyment of Mrs. Gardiner's company. She felt herself obliged to respond with equal civility and found the burden of such a duty to be quite light. So easy was their conversation that Elizabeth began to tease him gently.

"I believe, Mr. Darcy, that you have adhered to your aunt's advice and practiced most diligently."

He looked at her quizzically.

"Conversation, sir. I can remember sitting with you for a half hour entire and hearing not a single word spoken. Not one, sir!" her smile robbed her words of any offence.

Darcy grimaced, "I expect that my behaviour then is one thing more I should apologize for."

"Your apology is unnecessary but accepted nonetheless if you will accept mine in return."

"Why should you apologize, Mrs. Waring?"

"For being, at the time, quite pleased that you refrained from speaking to me. I had, as you know, formed a very poor and erroneous impression of you."

"I thought, Mrs. Waring, that we decided to put the past behind us but, if we must speak of it, then I should give you to understand that my…silence was necessary then lest I display my increasing regard for you."

"Ah…so am I to understand that the greater your regard, the more silent you will become?"

Darcy laughed, "I believe I should have laid any such fear to rest yesterday, Mrs. Waring. Did I not?"

Elizabeth laughed delightedly, "Indeed, Mr. Darcy. I stand rebuked.

They had at last reached the park and Darcy found himself suddenly reluctant to speak. Elizabeth's words had answered his hopes. He would not yet propose to her. It was too soon and he doubted that she was ready for his addresses. He also felt a need to speak of the past and yet was strangely reluctant to raise topics which might alter, and perhaps irrevocably harm, the cordiality that their recent meetings had established between them. His silence seemed to have affected her as well and he could almost physically feel her withdrawing from him. It seemed as though the pressure of her hand on his arm had lessened and he feared she might withdraw it altogether. For Elizabeth's part, his silence surprised her but the sudden sombre cast of his mien was of greater concern. It was altogether too reminiscent of his appearance in Kent. She was about to speak when he placed his hand atop hers as it rested on his arm.

He shook his head and looked around, "I am not familiar with this park but it appears particularly pleasant, does it not? I must apologize for my silence. It is not a reflection upon your company, I assure you." He smiled slightly as he continued, "Walking in this park brought back some memories. My wife and I used to walk in Hyde Park daily when we visited London. It was a pleasure that we shared and one I believe you and I will share - frequently I hope."

They walked on in silence for a few more moments as Elizabeth debated whether to broach the subject he had inadvertently raised. Finally, she gather her resolve and said, "Your wife, Mr. Darcy. I believe, from what my friend Mrs. Collins has related, that I would have enjoyed her company a great deal."

Darcy responded after a brief pause, " I recollect her saying something similar on more than one occasion."

"You spoke of me then?" Elizabeth did not try to hide her surprise. It was a most awkward topic.

Darcy smiled, "You may thank Mrs. Collins for that also. She was warm in your praises." He paused briefly, "And I, as well."

"How did you meet?" Elizabeth was not yet ready to explore the implications of his last words.

Darcy was not sure he wished to discuss this subject as yet but knew he must be honest with Elizabeth about Judith and their life together.

"I met her while visiting some friends in Shropshire. She was the local rector's daughter. I did not realize it at the time but she reminded me a great of a young woman I met in Hertfordshire. Perhaps not as lively or with as quick a wit but intelligent, kind and not at all impressed by my consequence."

"And so you courted and married her?"

"Not exactly. My visit lasted about a month and I then returned to Pemberley."

They walked in silence for a minute or so as he ordered his thoughts. Without thinking he placed his right hand atop hers holding onto his left arm. She glanced at his face and could see that his action had been done unthinkingly for his eyes were focused ahead. She found that she did not object to the familiarity.

"While I was visiting my friends I realized that I could not continue as I had been doing. I was lonely, without a wife or family, and I told myself that I had a duty to create an heir. When I returned to Pemberley I began to consider my future. I mentioned yesterday that I did not return to Hertfordshire because I believed that my presence would be unwelcome." He glanced down at her quickly before returning his eyes to the path ahead. "I realized I had to move on if I wanted to avoid a lonely existence and I began to consider whether any of the women I had encountered in the previous year or so interested me enough to marry. The only one whose company I enjoyed was Judith Farrell, the daughter of a rector in Shropshire. I agonized over whether to seriously pursue her for several weeks, but I could not stop thinking of you – at one point I even contemplated going to see you once more in the hope that you had forgiven me. I believe I always harboured the wish that somehow we would find ourselves in company again and I could prove myself worthy of you. As it turned out, however, you actually made the decision for me."

Elizabeth looked at him curiously but did not interrupt.

"I learned that you had married, you see; my cousin mentioned that he read the announcement of your nuptials at the end of one of his letters." She could see him swallow and collect himself before continuing. "It was not until that moment, when I realized any hope I had for a future with you was extinguished, that I was finally able to decide to marry myself."

"You were always worthy, Mr. Darcy. I was a naïve, foolish girl who could not see the man that you were."

"Let us not argue the matter now. It is of no longer of any significance." He wished he could ask if, had he ventured into Hertfordshire, whether she would have received him. He was not ready to do so and the answer was meaningless in any event.

"So, you returned to Shropshire?"

"Yes. I returned and courted Judith and we married in November of 1814."

"You cared for her a great deal, I believe."

"I did. I held Judith in considerable respect and there existed between us a strong affection. She was a good woman and I was content in my life with her. When she died, I missed her a great deal, as you must have missed your late husband. It is impossible to live contentedly with someone for several years and not regret the loss of the company, their companionship."

By unstated agreement they decided to put such thoughts aside and Elizabeth began to talk on happier topics and soon they found themselves exchanging stories about their children and the escapades and mischief in which they had engaged. Their children provided a distraction which was agreeable to both and allowed them to return to the Gardiner home in much better spirits more than an hour later.

Darcy had intended to return immediately to his own home but was easily persuaded by Elizabeth to take some refreshment before doing so. An invitation to dine with the family that evening was offered by Mrs. Gardiner and extended to his children when Darcy made it known that it was his practice to dine with them. He left shortly thereafter to collect his eldest daughter. As his youngest was only two years of age and quite unused to dining in company other than her father and sister, he thought it best to leave her home for the evening. With this approach Elizabeth very much agreed and chose to have her own daughter remain in the nursery for dinner.

Darcy returned shortly before dinner accompanied by Miss Darcy who was quickly found by her hosts to be a lively young girl of a sociable disposition, much to the amusement of Elizabeth. Her own daughter was brought down to be introduced, and Elizabeth could see Mr. Darcy's comfort with a young girl as he easily conversed with her for several minutes before she was returned to the nursery. Miss Darcy and Elizabeth's son were quickly consigned to the care of Miss Gardiner and were soon happily being read to quietly in a corner of the room. Mrs. Gardiner absented herself to oversee last minute preparations for dinner and Elizabeth, taking advantage of a moment when she and Darcy were enjoying a degree of privacy, addressed him thusly, "I wonder, Mr. Darcy, at the liveliness of your daughter. She must be as great a burden to you as I was to my father."

Darcy detected her tease with little difficulty and responded accordingly, "I am sure you are correct, Mrs. Waring. I suspect your father and I could exchange stories of a similar nature. I must make an effort to further my acquaintance with him to elicit such tales. Perhaps your aunt and uncle could be persuaded to supply the deficiency in his absence."

Elizabeth did not quite know how to respond to respond to his sally but before she could think of something suitable to say, he continued, "I was fortunate, I believe. Ann-Marie's happy manners are a tribute to my wife. Their dispositions were much alike."

"You were blessed then, sir, to have found someone who complemented you so well."

"Yes, I was very fortunate."

Darcy looked to Elizabeth as though he was to say something further but as he did not, she chose to move to a less difficult topic.

"Now that you are here in Town, Mr. Darcy, does that mean you will plan on enjoying the social season?"

"No more than ever, I assure you, although I have every intention of enjoying those activities which give me the greatest pleasure. I hope to see several plays, for instance, before summer weather induces me to return to the country."

The mention of the theatre caused Elizabeth to stop suddenly. "I have just remembered something. I saw you and a lady who I must assume was your wife at the theatre several years past. It was but the briefest of glimpses I am afraid and we – my husband and I – were not able to meet you."

Darcy knew exactly the evening she spoke of, "I confess that I saw you and your husband that evening as well. In fact, I have never forgotten that night." He paused for a few moments and looked at her before continuing. "My contentment with my marriage made me certain that my feelings for you were in the past. But I must admit, Mrs Waring, that when I saw you that night, sitting in the box below mine, laughing at something someone said, I knew then, with absolute certainty, that I would never get over you. As much as I cared for my wife, the rush of feelings I had long hidden for you came crashing back. I never let on to my wife – I would never have wanted to hurt her – but I knew just the same, that it was always you, Elizabeth, only you, who held my heart. If my wife had lived, you would have remained just a memory, fading with time."

They stood in silence for a long minute; Elizabeth, too stunned by his confession to say anything, and Darcy too overcome to continue.

Finally Darcy looked at Elizabeth and said, "Judith wrote me a letter before she went to bed with our second child. Her mother gave it to me after she died. Judith said she knew how easy it would be for me to fall into my old habits of being reticent and feeling comfort in solitude but she did not want that future for me or for our daughters. She wanted me to remarry and find a good wife for myself and a loving mother for our girls."

He paused, took hold of Elizabeth's hand and kissed the inside of her wrist. Whispering in her ear, he murmured "Now that I have found you again, I am not going to waste a single minute in carrying out her wishes."

Elizabeth found herself unable to speak. The touch of his lips on her hand and the tone of his voice as much as the words themselves robbed her of all sensibility. She rather thought that if he had moved his lips to her own, she could deny him nothing.

They stood in silence for a few seconds as each relived that passing moment. Finally Elizabeth ventured to return to the previous conversation.

"How long will you remain in London?"

He looked at her very directly and said, "My plans are not fixed; I find they are very much at the direction of others. It may be that I will visit another locale should the opportunity present itself."

"Oh!" Elizabeth blushed at his response and smiled at him. She could have no doubt as to the meaning underlying his words. He wished to be in her company and perhaps accompany her to Oaksley. She was to be in London for some weeks yet and his continued presence would be ...rife with possibilities - all of them intriguing. There was more than enough time to consider the matter.

The warmth of his response and an awareness that their interaction had not gone unobserved by Miss Gardiner or the children caused Elizabeth to withdraw slightly and change the topic.

"Might I enquire as to your sister, Mr. Darcy? Charlotte did mention you on occasion but rarely your sister that I can remember. How does she do?"

"Georgiana?" at Elizabeth's assent, he remarked, "She does quite well, I believe. I do not see as much of her as I could wish, unfortunately. She married a gentleman with an estate down in Cornwall and is so content there as to never wish to travel. I must visit her which I try to do at least once a year although it is quite a fearsome distance to travel."

"But what is fifty miles of good road, sir!"

He chuckled at her jibe, "Do you remember every fatuous comment I ever made, Mrs. Waring? Unfortunately, it is more like two hundred miles and the roads are poor over much of the distance. Not a trip to be undertaken lightly although the company is excellent once one can enjoy it." He looked at her before saying, "I think you and your son would much enjoy Cornwall and the company of my sister and her husband. His name is Fellowes – Henry Fellowes. They have a son of an age with your daughter."

"I would be pleased to make her acquaintance, Mr. Darcy, should the opportunity present itself." Elizabeth thought the name rather familiar but could not determine why. None of her acquaintances lived in Cornwall.

"I hope that it may, Mrs. Waring. But enough of my family, you must speak of your own. I am sure that you have much more to share."

Elizabeth was prevented from responding to this request by the arrival of Mr. Gardiner who was eager to be introduced to a gentleman of whom he had heard so much of late. The introductions were made and Elizabeth, knowing her uncle's conversational skills, felt comfortable leaving them alone and rejoining her aunt and cousin who were entertaining her son and Miss Darcy. While David Waring could not be said to possess the sociable nature of his mother and, in fact, was more inclined by disposition to favour his more reticent father, he was not reluctant to bear his share of a conversation in an intelligent manner despite being only five years of age. His father had barely begun his education before his death and Elizabeth had recently hired a governess whom she thought capable of providing competent instruction to her children. She would not repeat her parents' error. Her children would be raised with an appropriate education. Although Miss Darcy was almost a year younger than her son, Elizabeth found her to be rather precocious and of a lively nature who appeared fully capable of claiming her portion of the conversation.

Elizabeth's attention soon drifted to where Darcy and her uncle were talking with evident enjoyment. On more than one occasion, she noticed that Darcy's gaze was directed to her own group and often to her. That he took pleasure in her aunt and uncle was obvious from his smile, restrained though it was; her marriage had allowed her the opportunity to detect such signs in a reticent gentleman whose expressions of delight were not obvious to the casual observer. She recalled their acquaintance in Hertfordshire and she wondered if he had looked at her then in such a manner and if she had been unable – or too blind, she berated herself – to see it for what it was, attraction and interest.

Finally, the maid announced that dinner was ready and they proceeded to the dining room. Seating was by choice as befitted a family dinner and Darcy found himself sitting across from Elizabeth and beside his daughter while Elizabeth sat between her son and Miss Gardiner.

The food was excellent and the company intelligent and amiable, which made for agreeable conversation around the table. At one point Mr. Gardiner looked at Darcy and, deliberately ignoring Elizabeth, began his tease as follows, "Mr. Darcy, you and I have spoken of a shared love of fishing; but I would have you know that Lizzy's late husband was…"

"Uncle, please do not relate that story again," retorted Elizabeth in mock reproof.

"As I was saying, Mr. Darcy – and don't roll your eyes at me, Master David – Lizzy's late husband was also an avid fisherman although I believe I can claim to be more proficient." He chuckled and looked at Elizabeth who rolled her eyes in some embarrassment.

"My uncle, Mr. Darcy, is the only one to subscribe to this piece of fiction."

Mr. Gardiner was not to be deterred.

"Mr. Waring claimed however that the honours belonged to him since he landed the best catch." Elizabeth's aunt and uncle made no effort to hide their delight at their niece's flushed face. Even David could not restrain his chortles while Darcy and his daughter looked on in a bemused state. Finally, Elizabeth took it upon herself to explain.

"I am sure I had best explain my uncle's cryptic comments, Mr. Darcy, before he attempts to do so himself. His version would, I am sure, be considerably more entertaining to you and embarrassing to myself, although certainly less truthful."

"I await this story with great interest, Mrs. Waring." And in truth Darcy was quite eager to learn more about Elizabeth and her husband.

"I accompanied my aunt and uncle on a trip to Wiltshire in the summer of '14. Uncle Gardiner found a most delightful stream in which, he had been informed, lived a vast quantity of fish that had escaped capture. If I remember properly, the safety of those fish, if they existed, was not endangered by my uncle's efforts."

"Mercy, Lizzy! Mercy! Else I shall relay my version to Mr. Darcy."

"Very well! I shall be kind. Despite his success, or rather his lack thereof, my uncle did encounter another gentleman while fishing. It appears that his success was equally poor and they commiserated together over their ill-fortune. I believe they found solace in a few bottles of ale, did you not, Uncle?" Elizabeth gave her uncle no opportunity to respond as she hurriedly continued, "They were so pleased, each with the company of the other, that my uncle invited the gentleman to dine with us that evening at our inn. He accepted and returned the invitation by having us to dine with him the next night at his home. As you probably have guessed, the gentleman was Mr. Waring. He subsequently invited us to visit him which we did for the duration of our stay in Wiltshire. When we returned to Town, he followed us shortly thereafter and courted me. We were wed a few weeks later. My husband always liked to boast that while he may have caught fewer fish than my uncle, his catch - me - was the best. There….have I done justice to the story, uncle?"

"Hardly my dear. I like my version much better. You have managed to omit most of the more interesting parts."

"Perhaps, Mr. Gardiner, you might relate your version to me some time. I am sure I would enjoy it."

"It shall be as you wish, Mr. Darcy. Remind me to also relate about Mr. Waring's efforts to teach Lizzy how to cast."

Darcy began to laugh which drew a look of utter amazement from Elizabeth. Her mouth opened and then snapped shut as she considered a sight she had never expected to observe.

"Mr. Darcy, " said she, "Now that I have been suitably embarrassed, surely as a gentleman you would wish to relieve me from such a condition?"

"If it is within my power to do so, Mrs. Waring, you have but to ask."

"Elizabeth was not about to allow him to escape the telling of this story. "Come, Mr. Darcy, I am reluctant to be the only one embarrassed here tonight by my courtship. You must tell me something embarrassing about your courtship with your wife."

"Indeed, I am not opposed to doing so although I assure you nothing I can relate will be as interesting as yours."

"No excuses, sir. We are waiting with bated breath."

Miss Darcy piped up, "You told me once that mama did not like you at all when you first met but that you convinced her to change her mind." Everyone laughed at her effort to help her father causing her to blush in embarrassment.

"Indeed, she did not. I was much too quiet and reticent for her liking."

Elizabeth laughed, "I can well believe it, Miss Darcy. So he was when I first knew him. However, I think he has changed greatly, do you not agree? I suspect he is quite tolerable now."

Darcy was puzzled by her last words and her expression. It seemed somewhat familiar but why that should be so he could not recollect. The conversation moved on around him and he could not allow himself the time to pursue that memory. He had an object in mind and the time seemed right to broach it.

"Mrs. Waring. My children and I have made it a habit, when the weather permits, to ramble though Hyde Park in the mornings. I was wondering if you and your children might join us tomorrow morning? I could send a carriage for you both and we could take refreshments at my home afterwards."

Elizabeth looked down at her son. For herself, she was quite willing to have more of Mr. Darcy's company but would her son be willing to join them?

"I do not think I have ever been to Hyde Park, Mama. I would quite enjoy it, I think."

"You have your answer, Mr. Darcy. We would be very pleased to join you on your ramble. As you well know, I find much pleasure in such walks and it has been some years since I walked in Hyde Park; however, I shall use my own carriage as I must bring a nurse to keep charge of my daughter."

Darcy did not hide his feeling of happiness and the arrangements to meet at his house at ten the next morning were agreeable to them all. Before he departed, he also solicited the interest of the Gardiners and Elizabeth in attending the theatre and, receiving a favourable response, promised to investigate the various plays which they might wish to attend.

"After all, "he said, "I rent a box which can seat eight comfortably and attending the theatre in good company makes the evening more enjoyable. I shall endeavour to fix a date and a play as soon as possible."

Elizabeth found she had no need to think about what she wanted any longer and did not want him to depart without his knowing it as well. She stopped him before he stepped into his carriage after his daughter and forced herself to speak.

"Mr. Darcy, I must return home by mid-June and my aunt and uncle are to accompany me. I would be pleased if you and your children would join us."

Elizabeth was unable to look away after making her bold invitation and was relieved to see his expression of heartfelt delight at her words.

He moved closer and spoke softly in her ear.

"Do I dare hope that your feelings towards me have improved, Elizabeth?"

His use of her name and having it spoken so caressingly quite undid her. It was with the greatest difficulty that she whispered in response, "Come, Mr. Darcy, my feelings are embarrassingly obvious, are they not?"

When he took her hands and brought them to his lips, she laughed saying, "And your actions, sir, are altogether too pleasurable for my safety."

"Safety, Elizabeth?"

"Indeed, sir." she reclaimed her hands, stepped lightly away from him, giving him the gentlest of pushes towards the carriage and grinned. "You are a most...dangerous suitor. My peace of mind is at extreme risk."

She could hardly miss the satisfaction on his countenance as he entered the vehicle and, as it drove away, considered how she could discomfit him as thoroughly as he did her.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter 22**

 _ **May 1820 - London**_

When Elizabeth's carriage drew up in front of Darcy House, Darcy was waiting outside to greet them, eager for her arrival. He quickly ushered them inside to be introduced to his youngest daughter and, with little further ado, the party, comprised of Elizabeth and Darcy, four children possessed of barely concealed eagerness to explore a park and two nursemaids, set out for Hyde Park.

The eldest two children were mostly quiet, each casting surreptitious glances at the other as they walked along under the stern eyes of their nurses. Such was not the case for Elizabeth and Darcy. Elizabeth found it surprisingly easy to engage Darcy in conversation; he had an informed mind and a view of the world and the events therein that quite matched her own, although it was readily apparent that his knowledge surpassed hers. She was not made uncomfortable with that revelation since it was clear that much like her late husband he respected her opinions and took pleasure in sharing his knowledge. Their conversation was so pleasant that the quarter hour which passed until the gates of Hyde Park were seen was little noticed by the adults.

A desire to have him smile prompted her to inquire as follows, "You spent some time with my uncle last night?"

"I did."

"I gathered from the look on both your faces when you returned, that you found his company enjoyable."

"Indeed, it was. Your uncle is a most interesting man, … and quite an informative teller of stories."

Her companion's half smile left Elizabeth in little doubt that she was the object of those stories.

"Should I be concerned about what he said? Pray, tell me, what tales did my uncle regale you with?"

His smile grew wider.

"I would not wish to disclose a confidence, Mrs. Waring." He glanced down at her and grinned, "Suffice it to say that one involved a young lady, a fishing pond and a pair of breeches."

"Oh!" said Elizabeth, her cheeks suddenly flushed.

Darcy made no effort to hide his enjoyment at her reaction, causing Elizabeth's blush to deepen after she chanced a glance up at him. She could think of no response and her continuing silence seemed to afford her companion with even more pleasure. This was confirmed when she sensed him lean down and murmured, "I believe I have, for once, rendered you at a loss for words."

"Be careful, Mr. Darcy. I shall have my retribution and you may regret teasing me so."

"I am not afraid of you, Mrs. Waring."

His grin discomposed her once more as she wondered if he had always been so amiable behind his mask of reserve.

The park itself appeared to be populated mainly by children and their nurses and nannies; as Darcy observed, the fashionable hours for people to stroll and be seen were between five and seven in the evening. "My children and I come here to walk and play and I was sure that you and your children would share this inclination and enjoy the exercise, Mrs. Waring."

"Your memory has served you well, Mr. Darcy. At least this time I will not embarrass you by having my petticoats six inches deep in mud."

Darcy smiled and rejoined, "I assure you, Mrs. Waring, that the condition of your petticoats quite escaped my notice on that occasion."

"Ah, you were too disturbed by the impropriety of my walking so far, then."

Darcy continued to smile at her teasing, "Indeed I was not. I was too much entranced by the brightness of your eyes to think of anything else."

Elizabeth was astounded at one more indication that his attraction for her had begun early in their acquaintance and the flush that arose on her countenance was, she hoped, hidden by her bonnet; however, she doubted that when she heard a soft chuckle from the man who walked beside her. She marveled at the idea that she had captured his interest at such an early stage of their acquaintance and that his interest had not abated through the course of the years. If his words were to be believed – and she could hardly do otherwise as he had stated his intentions quite boldly – his object was to win her affections and then her hand in marriage. The more that she was in his company, the stronger her own feelings of attraction and admiration were becoming. Such was the impact of his addresses that it appeared to her that he had little work to do to capture her heart altogether.

She could not, however, think overmuch about Mr. Darcy at the moment. The two oldest children, while content to walk hand-in-hand with their respective parent, seemed to have lost any residue of shyness and were not reluctant to address questions and commentary in an unending stream towards the other members of the party. It was not clear that any answer or response was mandatory as the subject of their interest seemed to shift as rapidly as the gentle breeze that was blowing.

They had not been walking down the pathways of the park above five minutes when David Waring began to wander away from his mother, his attention captured in succession by a butterfly alighting on a nearby bush and requiring close inspection, a rock of such a size and interest as to necessitate its being secured in a pocket, a small tree with low hanging leaves, one of which could be obtained with only the utmost effort and highest leap, and finally the unfettered joy of bursting into a run that encircled his mother and her companions three times before brought to a conclusion by an increasing shortness of breath.

To all this Elizabeth attended with only the slightest concern, watching her son's curiosity and exuberance with tolerance. Her companion also watched the boy's behaviour with interest.

"I can remember, as a child, exploring and running for the sheer pleasure of doing so. My parents would often walk with me on the trails of Pemberley and encourage my efforts."

"I own that I was much the same as a child, Mr. Darcy. I have never seen any reason to restrain my son from such pleasure…..As long as the location is appropriate." She chuckled, "He has, on occasion, attempted to run so in the house and my housekeeper, as fond as she is of him, does not view it with equanimity."

Darcy laughed, "I was banished to the portrait gallery when I felt so inclined. My mother always said I could do no harm there and would not disturb anyone." He looked down at his daughter who appeared to be watching David Waring's antics with some longing.

"Ann-Marie, you may play like Master David, should you wish to. Just stay nearby."

His daughter needed no further encouragement and, releasing his hand, began to skip towards David Waring. Darcy turned to Elizabeth.

"She is usually much more lively. I do not understand her restraint today."

"Does she play with other children?"

"Not often. We do not see my cousins' families that frequently and Pemberley is rather removed from other estates which makes visits of other children infrequent."

"Perhaps that is the problem then. David plays regularly with a few children from tenant families who live close to Oaksley and several of the nearby families visit weekly with their children."

Their conversation was ended as the two children arrived at the pond. The presence of a paddling of ducks drew their attention first; however, the sighting of a raft of ducklings excited much comment and interest. David was most discouraged when his attempts to draw close to the ducklings prompted their mother to swim out towards the middle of the small pond and call her brood to attend her.

Elizabeth restored her son's humour and captured Ann-Marie's interest when she opened her reticule.

"I rather thought we might see some ducks today and came prepared." She withdrew a bag containing seed to feed to the ducks. Each child reached in and grabbed a handful, then promptly threw it at the ducks who had begun to congregate in front of them in expectation of food being delivered. The result of their efforts was less than satisfactory to both Elizabeth and the ducks since much of the seed sank to the bottom of the pond before it could be eaten, so she held the bag out of reach of the children before they could obtain a second handful.

"No, no! That is not how it is done. Watch!"

Elizabeth placed a small amount of seed in the palm of her hand, bent down and held her hand outstretched, offering the seed to any duck brave enough to chance eating from her hand. A medium sized duck, either braver than her companions or hungrier, ventured close enough to peck at the seed. As Elizabeth made no threatening gestures or movements, a second attempt was made, and then a third. Seeing one of their number so freely eating encouraged several more to do likewise and, within a minute, Elizabeth was obliged to replenish her offerings.

The children watched in some amazement and seeing the success of her efforts, pleaded to be allowed to do likewise. With Darcy's ready assistance, the two children were soon holding a handful of seeds. The feel of the ducks' bills on their palms was a cause for some small concern at first but once assured that they would not be bitten, Ann-Marie and David were quite happy to indulge the ducks. If there was any regret it was that the ducklings were not allowed by their mother to join in the feeding.

Once Elizabeth's seed supply was exhausted, the children were forced to find an alternate amusement. With a bold challenge to Elizabeth, it was Darcy who accomplished that feat.

"Perhaps, Mrs. Waring," said he with a most serious mien, "you would like to learn the proper art of skipping stones. Although 'tis not a skill that comes easily to women, I would be most happy to give you instruction should you wish it."

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose, "I beg your pardon. Are you challenging me, Mr. Darcy?"

"Indeed I am!"

"You must know, sir, that my courage rises with any attempt to intimidate me."

"You cannot believe, madam, that I have any intention of intimidating you. I simply wish to demonstrate the superiority of men in this endeavour." Darcy smiled as he could see that Elizabeth was only affecting to be offended. Calling David and Ann-Marie to his side, he led them some distance around the pond and away from those few ducks who, in the expectation of further feeding, had begun to follow them. Fortunately, the arrival of several other children captured the attention of most the fowl who were thus convinced to remain behind with the prospect of being fed foremost in their minds.

Once assured that the pond in front of them was clear of obstructions, Darcy began to search for stones suitable for skipping. He could see Elizabeth doing likewise nearby and, based on the manner in which she examined her selections, he had little doubt that she was experienced in the art of skipping stones. Their children watched the antics of their parents with interest and soon attempted to supplement the stone supply of their respective parent. Their first offerings were received with appreciation – and surreptitiously released; a quick display of the type of stone to be used – flat and of a middling size - soon led to a small improvement in those being offered.

Once Darcy and Elizabeth had each accumulated a decent store of stones, the competition began. Elizabeth was allowed the first cast and quite oblivious to her surroundings and the propriety of her actions, made her first throw.

"A decent effort, madam, ...were you a child of ten!" said Darcy, impressed by a throw that produced three skips although not inclined to display his admiration.

"I await yours, sir." Replied Elizabeth and was rewarded by the sight of a throw that produced only two skips.

"Two skips only, Mr. Darcy! Surely you can do better."

"I will have you note that mine travelled further than yours, madam," huffed Darcy, pretending to be affronted.

"If we are competing as to the length of the throw, then I shall concede the match immediately, Mr. Darcy. Men are endowed with such a superiority of strength that a competition would be meaningless. But sir, skipping a stone is an art and one, I gather, you have yet to master."

Darcy drew himself up, puffed out his chest and proclaimed, "It is my wont, madam, to always cast my first poorly so as to mislead my opponent. I see I have succeeded once more."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, struggling not to laugh, "So claimed the boys I contested with as a child. I shall award it as much credit now as I did then."

Darcy bowed. "Shall we attempt another throw, madam?"

Elizabeth grinned, but as she prepared to make her second effort, she was suddenly conscious of Darcy's fixed gaze at her person. Unable to resist teasing him, she leaned forward a little to see where his eyes landed. As she suspected, her décolletage was his object. Almost giddy at the thought of receiving his admiration, she turned quickly and caught him staring. Unabashed, he raised his eyes to hers and, with a twinkle that let her know just how tempting she was, he asked,

"Do you plan to throw, Mrs. Waring?"

Recalled to her purpose, Elizabeth once more set herself and carefully made her second attempt. "Four skips!" She clapped her hands in glee, proclaiming, "Best _that_ , Mr. Darcy!"

"A noble effort, madam. A noble effort - for a woman." He smiled as she glared at him.

As he prepared to throw, Elizabeth allowed herself to stare at him. That he was handsome, she had long admitted. Now, however, with the experience of five years of marriage, she could truly appreciate his … countenance and she suddenly found herself thinking of him lying with her in bed. She flushed at her unvirtuous thoughts as the image of them together produced a warmth that made her weak in the knees. Her mind was so occupied that she missed his second throw altogether and she could only hope when he turned to her that her face did not reflect the flush that permeated her so completely.

If Darcy noticed anything untoward in her complexion, he made no sign of it and was content to exclaim, "Four skips as well, Mrs. Waring. We have tied!"

Before Elizabeth could respond, her son drew their attention. David's attempt to mimic his mother had been quite unsuccessful as the widening ring of circles in the water near the shore of the pond attested. In two steps, Darcy was kneeling beside him, talking quietly. As Elizabeth watched, he showed David the proper way to hold the stone and then how to position his arm to make it skip. It took several tries and much encouragement but eventually David was able to cast a stone that skipped twice – a feat which was the subject of much praise from his mother and Darcy.

While David was being instructed, Ann-Marie stood slightly apart from everyone, appearing disinterested in their activity. Elizabeth suspected she might be jealous of the attention her father was showing to David and offered, "Miss Darcy, have you ever made a stick boat?"

Ann-Marie shook her head and Elizabeth inquired whether she wished to learn as she herself had been Miss Darcy's age when her father had taught her how to make them. Seeing a spark of interest, Elizabeth quickly gave directions.

"We shall need some twigs." And the hunt began. Within a few minutes a number of twigs of a suitable size had been collected. Seating herself on the ground – Elizabeth was sure that her maid would have some comment about the damage to her gown – she quickly showed Ann-Marie how to strip the twigs of their bark, explaining, "We need to tie these twigs together and I did not bring any string or thread with me, so the bark will have to suffice."

In a matter of minutes, Ann-Marie's boat was fashioned, a mast set in place and a large leaf impaled on it to act as a sail. Miss Darcy had the honour of carrying the boat to the water and launching it on its maiden voyage. Their activities had not gone unnoticed by Darcy or David Waring; and, as soon as her boat started to sail away, David began pleading to make his own boat.

Elizabeth looked at Darcy with a teasing glint in her eye, "As you have so ably instructed my son in the art of stone skipping, I am convinced that your boat building abilities must be equally proficient."

Darcy gave a small smile and turned to David, "We have been challenged, Master Waring. We must construct a boat as good as that produced by the ladies."

David simply grinned at his mother. "Mama showed me how to make them last summer," he looked up and glanced at Darcy, "but I will need some help. I cannot seem to tie the sticks together well."

"That is always a problem," said Darcy nodding knowingly. "But I was once quite proficient at this and between the two of us I am sure we can make a most excellent craft."

And so it was. Within ten minutes a second boat set sail on the pond. Meanwhile, Miss Helen Darcy and Miss Jane Waring, being only two years of age, were, for the most part, content to chase the errant duck foolish enough to come within their purview, pluck colorful flowers along their path and generally enjoy the freedom to roam about investigating the world at their disposal. While too young to play together – or even have a notion that such was possible – it was quickly apparent that what one found interesting would soon claim the attention of the other. So it was that Miss Helen wandered down to the pond and was immediately enraptured by the sight of the two boats being pushed hither and thither by the easy breeze. No sooner had she made her wants known – a boat of her own – when her demand was repeated by Miss Jane. It proved quite easy to accommodate both young ladies and, a quarter hour later, the pond saw a flotilla of four twig boats sailing about. So pleased was Miss Helen by the sight, that it was only the quick action of her father which prevented her from venturing into the pond to retrieve her craft. Neither young lady was happy to leave their boats behind when the time came to depart, and only the assurance that they would return to the park another day during which they would be able to make another boat to sail, placated the two youngest. The promise of a picnic in the Darcy garden finally convinced them to leave happily.

As they were preparing to leave, Darcy noticed that the back of Elizabeth's dress was sprinkled with leaves, grass and a few tiny twigs – particularly where she had been sitting on the ground. His first instinctive move to brush it off was stayed before his hand moved too close to her back.

Elizabeth noticed his gesture and an eyebrow rose quizzically.

"Your …back and…well you have grass and leaves on the back of your gown."

She immediately twisted around to appraise the problem, shook her skirts to shake loose any debris and then brushed the back of her dress hoping to remove the remainder. She then looked at him questioningly. He shook his head, a slight smirk on his face. She recognized that she could do little at the moment to repair any damage.

"It is most unkind of you, sir, to smile at my poor appearance."

"I have never found anything wanting in your appearance, Mrs. Waring. I assure you."

Elizabeth was discomposed by Darcy's next words, "May I be of some assistance?"

At her puzzled look, he made a brushing motion with his hand. As the area to be brushed was her back and bottom, Elizabeth was able to do nothing but turn scarlet and quickly reject his help. "I thank you, but no."

Darcy had not expected her to accept his offer. In truth he had made it only to see her blush at the suggested intimacy. With a look of satisfaction, he extended his arm to Elizabeth who took it somewhat tentatively. She was stunned to realize that his gesture had discomfited her only because it had been made in such a public spot. She rather thought that if they had been alone, she might have allowed – nay, enjoyed – his assistance. Her husband had teased her so but only after some months of marriage. Was she becoming wanton to desire such attentions from this man so early in their relationship?

On their return to Darcy House for refreshments, they arranged another outing for the next day, although in deference to the desire of the parents to converse, it was agreed that the nurses would be charged with the care of all the children.

When they finished the picnic in the garden, the children were taken by their nurses to the nursery for a rest before Elizabeth's had to return home. He wanted to talk privately with Elizabeth. Her confession the previous day made it clear that her regard for him had changed radically and he believed that she might well accept an offer of marriage should he make one. That he urgently wished to do so warred with his practical side that reminded him they had only been reacquainted for three days. It was too soon. He did not know if he had dispelled all of her objections from the past and it would be intolerable if she accepted him while still harbouring any reservations. When next he offered, he would have no such uncertainties in her mind.

Once they were alone, Darcy turned to her and from her expression he realized that she was not anticipating the question he wished to ask. Undaunted, he pressed on.

"Mrs. Waring, since Judith passed away, I found that I had little interest in remarrying. The society where most of my acquaintances might expect me to find a wife is not to my liking; I have seen enough there to understand that it is not likely to contain the woman I would wish to marry and I had given up any hope of such felicity. At least that was the case until several days ago when I had the good fortune to find you again. And now that I have found you, the thought of losing you is more that I can bear."

He took her hand in his, and his thumbs began stroking the back of her hand as he continued, "I have not hidden my wishes towards you, but I will not presume to know yours. I did that once before and the results were disastrous."

He paused for several moments as his eyes searched hers and then smiled slightly. "I do not believe you are ready yet to hear the question I wish to ask, I suspect it is too soon. But yesterday you gave me reason to hope that you share my sentiments. If you do, I would like to…formalize our relationship... Will you allow me to court you? Properly as a woman should be courted?"

Elizabeth, her mind more attuned to getting her children home, had not immediately realized his intent. However, once she understood his purpose, she could not resist the opportunity to tease him, and sent an arch glance in his direction.

"I rather thought that was what you were already doing, Mr. Darcy."

"Are we courting? Because that is what it feels like to me also. I simply thought we should be more open….public about the matter."

Darcy looked at Elizabeth with an intensity that would have daunted her in the past but now she felt a thrill for the power she held over him and decided she might yet tease him a little further.

"Am I then to surrender my freedom, my independence to the vagaries of a man?" Her eyes danced with amusement and relief flooded through Darcy as he responded in kind.

"I rather thought, Madam, to provide you with an object which would provide a lifetime's source of teasing. One worthy of your impertinence. And I sincerely doubt the sensibility of any man who attempts to curtail your independence. I should not have so much courage, I assure you."

Elizabeth smiled at him. "I doubt that to be the truth, Mr. Darcy. However, I am serious to a degree. I have over the last few years become accustomed to exercising my talents in areas that most would consider inappropriate for a woman. My late husband left his estate in my sole care, and I manage it, successfully, in trust for my son. You should know that it is something that gives me great enjoyment and I do not wish to give that up. Surely you would not want to be so closely associated with such a woman. Indeed, I have greatly enjoyed all of the freedoms I gained as an independent woman and I do not wish to surrender them – at least not altogether."

"And I would not want you to do so." He paused, "I cannot give you any greater assurance than the promise that it is the independence of your mind and spirit that has drawn me to you."

Persisting in making light of their conversation, Elizabeth baited Darcy, "I suppose that I am only tolerable otherwise."

"Mrs. Waring, you are – and you well know it – quite a bit more than merely tolerable. You are one of the handsomest women of my acquaintance. And if it did not involve so great an impropriety, I would make that very, very clear." Darcy stated, his voice thick with emotion. He had, without realizing it, taken a small step closer to her and she could feel the heat of his hands and his scent.

"Now" said he, "I would have your answer, Mrs. Waring. May I court you?"

She nodded but her words belied the gesture.

"I enjoy your company a great deal, Mr. Darcy; however, I still think it quite unnecessary for you to formally court me. We are both of us widowed with children and embarking on a formal courtship seems pointless. That we are keeping company will, I suspect, be quite obvious to anyone to whom it is important. And, as I have said, you have already been courting me."

"Elizabeth, you rejected me once and when I think of the years we lost because I was too much of a coward to pursue you … I won't give you up so easily this time. You may not need a courtship to accept our relationship, however …I need to know – I need the world to know – that we are making a commitment to each other, even if it is only a courtship at this point."

As she listened and scrutinized his face she realized how important this request was to him. The courtship might be unnecessary for her, but it was essential for him. He had assumed her acceptance eight years ago and she had soundly rejected him. Now he needed her assurance through a formal, public courtship, that her feelings had changed and that she cared for him. In truth since it seemed he would ask that question he truly wished to ask in the not too distant future, she was quite content to allow this small preliminary step. If she could, within the bounds of propriety of course, hurry the process by the application of a few allurements, she would do so. The prospect delighted her and she resisted the temptation to consider how it might be done. Later, she thought.

Deciding she had tortured him enough, Elizabeth took Darcy's hand and smiled up at him. "Yes, Mr. Darcy, I accept your offer of a courtship. Most gladly...and willingly"

Unable to contain his joy, Darcy asked, "It would please me to do this properly. Should I seek the consent of anyone? Your son perhaps? Your father? Mr. Gardiner?"

Elizabeth laughed, "I suggest we allow David to get to know you better although I suspect that he thinks very highly of the gentleman who can make such superior boats and skip stones so very well." She shook her head. "You need only my approval which you have; however, if you wish, you may announce our courtship to my uncle." She paused momentarily before continuing, "He likes you very much so I doubt you need fear his reaction. As to my father, there is no need to bother him with such news at this time."

"It is obvious that your uncle and aunt care for you a great deal which speaks well of their understanding. I admit I like them both very much." Darcy did not miss the almost dismissive note in Elizabeth's voice when she commented upon her father. She had, he knew, always been close to her father and he wondered at the apparent estrangement between them.

Elizabeth slipped her hand into his arm and began to lead him out of the room. "I must attend my children."

Darcy allowed himself to be led for a few seconds before drawing her to a stop to make a tentative request.

"Mrs. Waring, may I…would you allow me to call you Elizabeth."

She nodded. "Shall I call you Fitzwilliam, then?"

"I would be delighted if you did so.…Elizabeth." Now it was his turn to blush slightly as he smiled down at her. "I confess that I have called you Elizabeth in my thoughts for many years. To have the right to do so now is something I may have trouble believing."

Elizabeth gasped at this revelation, "I had no idea you thought of me that way." Realizing that such familiarity felt right, her good humour was quickly restored. "I admit I never once thought of you as Fitzwilliam," she laughed. "Even in my thoughts I would never have presumed to call you anything other than Mr. Darcy. But I have little doubt that I will quickly be comfortable with such...intimacy…Fitzwilliam."

Darcy had no words for the moment and Elizabeth rather thought he needed them not as once more he raised her hands placing the softest of kisses on the inside of her wrists before leading her out to her carriage. As he assisted her to enter, he said, "I shall call on your uncle before our walk tomorrow."

So it was that when Darcy was shown into Mr. Gardiner's study the next day, that gentleman wasted little time in extending his congratulations.

"I cannot find the words to express my satisfaction when Lizzy told me that she had agreed to a courtship with you, Mr. Darcy."

"I would be honoured, sir, if you would call me Darcy."

Mr. Gardiner's pause was so brief that Darcy almost missed it altogether. He suspected that the offer of such familiarity had been unexpected; but these were Elizabeth's closest and dearest relatives, standing in the place of her parents. He had come to view them with considerable respect for their intelligence and comportment and wished to establish from the beginning that he would hold them in an great esteem.

"Thank you, Darcy. And it would please me greatly to have you call me Gardiner or" he paused and glanced at Darcy slyly, ...perhaps, Uncle."

Darcy smiled, nodded and only responded to the teasing by murmuring, "Soon, soon."

The rise in Mr. Gardiner's eyebrows showed his hearing to be very exact but he ignored what was said, choosing instead to probe a topic that, even after eight years, remained a concern.

"This is the second opportunity I have been afforded the privilege of blessing a courtship for Lizzy. I must admit that on this occasion the moment is less fraught with tension."

Darcy simply looked surprised. Mr. Gardiner shook his head ruefully, "I understand from Lizzy that you are quite familiar with the particulars of her sister Lydia." Darcy nodded and Mr. Gardiner resumed, "On the previous occasion, Elizabeth…demanded that Mr. Waring be apprised of her sister's….situation. She wanted Anthony to have the opportunity to withdraw, should he wish to do so."

"I gather he was too sensible a man to let such a trivial matter be an impediment."

"It was not really a trivial matter then, ….Darcy."

"I beg to differ, sir. To any man who held Elizabeth in esteem, it was a very trivial matter indeed...It also speaks well for her honour and integrity that she acted so."

Mr. Gardiner was quite surprised by his response. That Elizabeth had known Darcy before her marriage and had come to esteem him then, he had learned from his wife. It now appeared that the gentleman himself had long held Elizabeth in equal regard. If Lydia was not the impediment, he wondered why Darcy had not approached Elizabeth eight years ago. Mr. Gardiner realized that a silence of over a minute had occurred and that his guest was becoming a little uncomfortable.

"I apologize for delaying your walk, Darcy." Mr. Gardiner was finding it easier to use the familiar address. "I suspect Elizabeth and the children are ready to depart by now and I have learned from sad experience not to interfere with Elizabeth taking a walk."

In a matter of a few minutes, Darcy and Elizabeth ushered the children and nursemaids into the waiting carriage and a half-hour later they invaded Hyde Park once more. Shortly after they began their tour, Darcy found himself walking beside David Waring and determined to make an effort to learn more about him. Recalling some of his own youthful escapades at Pemberley, within a short time the boy was relating to him some of his more recent mischiefs. It became clear that he had a number of local companions with whom he could play. Darcy was not surprised that the boy's father was not mentioned; David had been fatherless for the past year and his most recent memories included only one parent – his mother. For himself, he remembered his father being a constant presence in his life from an early age and wondered who would teach the boy all that needed to be learned about managing an estate and fill the role of a father so essential to a young boy. It had taken no more than a quarter hour's conversation to realize he could like the lad and would enjoy filling that role for him.

As they approached the Serpentine, David's attention to their talk lapsed and his thoughts were obviously directed towards making a closer acquaintance with it. Little encouragement was required for Ann-Marie to join him and they wandered off ahead to inspect it together under the watchful eye of a nursemaid.

Darcy was content to walk with Elizabeth again and gratified when the offer of his free arm was accepted without hesitation. Their pace slowed slightly so as to allow for easier conversation and Darcy took the opportunity to express his admiration for David Waring.

"I quite like your son, Elizabeth. He reminds me very much of myself at a similar age although I believe, with your guidance, he is much more comfortable with strangers than ever I was at that age."

"Thank you, Mr…Fitzwilliam. I am, I admit, inordinately proud of David. His father was a fine man and his son will be just like him." Elizabeth suddenly remembered Darcy's housekeeper saying very much the same about Darcy. "I remember your housekeeper – I cannot remember her name – saying much the same about you when I visited."

"That would have been Mrs. Reynolds."

"I trust she remains in good health. She was very courteous to us."

"Mrs. Reynolds has retired now – about a year ago. She remains in good health but the duties were too heavy for her and after so many years serving the Darcy family, she has earned her rest. She now lives in a cottage close to Pemberley House."

Elizabeth nodded and they walked in a companionable silence for several minutes. Darcy's thoughts, which he knew he could not express because of the unhappiness that would necessarily attach to them, were of those memories of how his own father, when Darcy was some years older than David, began to acquaint him with the workings of the estate. They would ride for an afternoon – sometimes packing a lunch – and explore the farms, buildings, and meeting with the tenants. He would talk of the history of the estate and how things worked. Darcy remembered them as the best of times he shared with his own father. David would not have those memories and Darcy knew he could not impose such regrets on Elizabeth.

As a consequence, he deliberately attempted to direct the conversation to a lighter topic and mentioned, for Elizabeth's consideration, the various theatre plays which were being offered at the moment. The variety was extensive but, after some discussion, they agreed that _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ would be agreeable to all of the party and Darcy was able to vouch for the good calibre of the troupe that would be performing. Elizabeth was loath to release the general topic and they quickly and easily fell into a discussion – frequently interrupted by the need to attend to the children – of various plays that each had seen over the past years.

Elizabeth had just started to respond to his question about a particular novel she had finished, and which he had thought to read, when she halted abruptly and looked ahead to a woman who was walking with several young children. Elizabeth shook her head, resumed walking and was about to continue the conversation when Darcy inquired as to the cause of her reaction.

"Oh, tis nothing. I just thought I saw my sister, Jane, but it was someone else altogether."

"May I inquire as to your sister? Does she reside here in Town?"

Elizabeth hesitated to answer; the issue of Bingley and Jane no longer lay between them as far as she was concerned. That Bingley himself must accept the major source of blame for his behaviour, she had come to realize many years ago and Jane was happy and content in her situation. Whether being wed to Bingley would have produced a greater measure of happiness was a question impossible to answer. She realized that her pause had led to some discomfort on Darcy's part when he said, "I am sorry. I had not intended to discomfit you."

Elizabeth returned her thoughts to her companion and smiled up at him before stating, "I am not discomfited at all, Fitzwilliam. My sister is indeed quite well. She married a gentleman who my aunt and uncle have known for many years. They have three children now and Jane is anticipating an addition to the family in October. She is quite, quite happy and content. Mr. Simmons is a fine gentleman, much like my uncle, in fact. I like him a great deal. They do live here in Town; in fact, I expect to visit Jane tomorrow in the afternoon."

"I would very much like to make their acquaintance. Do you suppose they would like to join our party at the theatre?"

"Mr. Simmons is in trade, Mr. Darcy." The challenge implicit in Elizabeth's statement could not be ignored and he did not miss the significance of her referring to him more formally.

"What is that to me? He is your brother, is he not?"

Elizabeth looked at him, her steps slowing as she considered his countenance and nodded slowly, any lingering doubts resolved, "Yes, he is, and I am quite fond of him."

"Then nothing more need be said. His status in life is of no importance to me."

"I believe they would be delighted to accept your invitation."

"Excellent. We shall be a merry party. Would you prefer to issue the invitation or that I do so?"

Elizabeth considered his offer. Jane knew nothing about her re-acquaintance with Fitzwilliam and his sudden appearance in her parlour might well, she thought, discompose her sister. She put her reservations into words, explaining her preference to tell Jane what had transpired between them before he showed up on Jane's doorstep. He considered her thoughts, agreed and said, "I quite understand your concerns, Mrs. Waring. Will you have sufficient time to bring your sister up to date if I call on you both at her house at about three and make the invitation myself?"

Elizabeth agreed that this was a sensible approach and said as much in reply. After giving him the address, which Darcy realized was in a quite respectable part of London and indicative of a very prosperous living, she decided that a more opportune time for broaching the matter of Mr. Bingley might never exist and opened the topic as follows.

"Fitzwilliam, I would have you know that Jane is quite happy in her marriage; that the man she married is the better man. If anything, she will be relieved that Mr. Bingley chose not to pursue her. I believe she has not thought of Mr. Bingley for many years."

Darcy felt a great sense of relief at such a clear forgiveness for his past actions.

"You cannot know, Elizabeth, how pleased to hear you say as much. I have long regretted my role in their separation but was unsuccessful in my efforts to repair the situation."

"I recall that you said as much before, sir."

"Indeed but, as I said, my efforts were not successful."

"Fitzwilliam, too much time has passed for either of us to hold such memories close. I thought we had put the matter behind us. We are beginning afresh, are we not?"

"I hope we are, Elizabeth. I truly hope we are."

Darcy's gaze was so warm and tender that Elizabeth could not control her countenance and felt a need to restore her equanimity. A quick pleased smile and a tug on his arm caused them to resume their walk and she encouraged him to rejoin their children who seemed to have established a comfortable relationship of their own. By this time they had finished the circumvention of the Serpentine and were following the paths that would return them to the Lancaster Gate where their carriage awaited them. When they entered the carriage, the main interest of them all was the repast that awaited them at Darcy House; and Darcy assured them that his housekeeper had promised a delightful lunch and he had full confidence in her assurances.

"Papa?"

"Yes, Ann-Marie."

"Will we be seeing more of Mrs. Waring?"

"I hope so. I hope we will see a great deal of her in the future." Darcy looked at her more closely. His response had been made without much thought but now he wondered if his daughter would like Elizabeth and what he would do if Ann-Marie did not want to to spend time with her.

"Do you like her?" he asked.

"Oh yes! I do like her. She tells the most interesting stories and she makes me laugh." Darcy could see his daughter had something further to say and, with only a little prompting, she murmured, "I would like her to be my Mama."

He reached over and drew her into his arms. "I would like that as well Ann–Marie. But you must be patient. You see, Mrs. Waring needs to get to know us better before we can speak of this to her. While I would like you to show her how much you like her, it is better to not speak of such wishes just yet."

Ann-Marie appeared chastened and worried by his response. As that had not been his intent, he attempted to ease her feelings with a kiss on her forehead.

"I am not displeased Ann-Marie. In fact I am very happy that you like her and wish her for your mother. It is my fondest wish as well but it is too soon to speak of it with anyone else – particularly Mrs. Waring or even Master David. This is something that you can speak of only to me. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Father."

"Good! Now I believe it is time for you to sleep."

Ann-Marie's reluctance to leave was obvious and he knew she wished to learn more about Elizabeth; however, at the moment, he was too overwhelmed about the situation to feel capable of satisfying her. He barely heard his daughter taking her leave of him and his words and actions were perfunctory as he acknowledged her departure. Ann-Marie's question and the thought of marrying Elizabeth brought forth his memories of his late wife. He sent a silent prayer of thanks for Judith's letter, for it gave him the freedom to pursue Elizabeth without remorse.

Rising from his comfortable chair, he filled a glass with port and settled himself once more. The book he had been reading could not claim his attention and, as he relaxed, his thoughts drifted slowly to the past few days. He could hardly credit that in such a short time he could envisage a life with Elizabeth by his side. It was a prospect so fraught with happiness that he hardly allowed himself to believe it possible. Their parting today had left him almost desperate to make her his wife. The feel of Elizabeth's hand on his arm bespoke of a comfort and intimacy he had never felt before, but it was the slight brush of her body next to his and the press of her breast against his arm as he helped her into the carriage that fired his imagination. He felt himself as besotted as any bridegroom. He did not remember his feelings ever being so powerful. They almost overwhelmed him and he smiled at the thought. He could not wish it otherwise.


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter 23**

Darcy called on Elizabeth's sister the day after their walk in Hyde Park. Jane Simmons was very much as she was when he first met her. Her evenness of temper and quiet composure had not altered, and she still, in his opinion, smiled too much, but now he recognized it for the protective reserve that characterized her personality. Their meeting was most amiable and he was sure that Elizabeth must have apprised her of the events of the day before, a thought that pleased him greatly. After ten minutes, he extended the invitation to the theatre which she accepted with pleasure. They briefly discussed the play they were to see when Jane suddenly changed the subject.

"Mr. Darcy, my sister mentioned that Mr. Bingley's name arose during your walk yesterday. Do you see much of him these days?"

Her inquiry caught both Darcy and Elizabeth by surprise and Darcy struggled to maintain his composure. Despite Elizabeth's assurances, he had not been able to completely absolve himself of a feeling that he had treated both Bingley and Miss Bennet badly. His unease must have been apparent as Jane hastened to reassure him.

"You must not feel alarmed, Mr. Darcy. My sister has explained the circumstances of your actions and I assure you I bear you no ill-will nor, given the happiness of my marriage, can I regret your actions. I am well and I hope the same for Mr. Bingley. I am just curious as to how he does."

Darcy nodded. "You are much too kind, Mrs. Simmons. As for Bingley, I fear our friendship has suffered but that, I believe, had more to do with our circumstances in life. Mr. Bingley married a woman of considerable consequence whom I have met only once; I cannot even say whether they have any children. I see him in town perhaps once or twice a year; however, I have not attempted to recapture the closeness of our previous acquaintance. Our correspondence is very limited since Bingley is a poor and infrequent writer."

Elizabeth smiled, "I remember your strictures about his handwriting, Mr. Darcy. Surely it cannot be that bad."

"Mrs. Waring, a brief note from Bingley could easily require a quarter hour to decipher. A long letter would generally exhaust my patience. His hand is truly appalling."

"And what of his sisters, Mr. Darcy?" inquired Jane.

"Ah. Well I have heard little of either. Once I married there was little reason for me to be in company with his sisters and I did not, I admit, encourage the acquaintance. Whether Miss Bingley has married is beyond my knowledge and, I confess, of little interest. As to Mrs. Hurst, I know even less."

Relieved, Jane simply nodded her head. Her acquaintance with both ladies had ended at their instigation eight years ago, and she did not think enough of them to wish to re-establish it now, should that be possible. That they were no longer a close acquaintance of Mr. Darcy was inevitable with the rupture of relations between their brother and Mr. Darcy. Of greater import was that her sister and Mr. Darcy had established an acquaintance. Elizabeth, as was her wont, had said little beyond acknowledging that he had called on her several times. Elizabeth's demeanour in his company was not revealing even to one who knew her well and Jane, knowing Elizabeth's past dislike of the gentleman wondered whether those feelings could have changed so greatly as to allow her to receive him with pleasure. She was sure her sister would not marry again without affection. She had held her late husband in considerable esteem and, if she had entered the marriage for reasons having as much to do with prudence as affection, Jane doubted she would do so again. Elizabeth had no need now to enter into a marriage for any reason other than the most profound attachment to her husband. Did she, could she, feel so towards Mr. Darcy? In the past Jane had always thought better of Mr. Darcy than her sister and anticipated that the passage of some time might be required to accomplish an improvement in Elizabeth's appreciation of him, for she had ever been stubborn about her opinions. She could not, however, reflect further on the matter as two more callers had just arrived and the duties of hostess had first claim on her attention. The matter of Mr. Darcy and her sister was placed in abeyance and there it would remain for some time.

Darcy did not stay past the half hour that society dictated as the proper length for a social call. Nor had he made the acquaintance of Mr. Simmons but, if the Gardiners and Elizabeth were to be trusted – and they were – he expected that his company would be enjoyable.

As he stood outside the theatre, Darcy forced himself to remain still and portray, outwardly at least, a calmness he did not feel. His carriage bringing the Gardiners, the Simmonses and Elizabeth would arrive shortly, and he waited with great anticipation. He imagined that Elizabeth would be amused by his demeanour, in place to discourage unwanted intrusions by those around him; had she been there, he expected that she would have given him a set down for being so unapproachable. But tonight he cared not. He would be with Elizabeth and did not want the rest of the world to impose on him while he waited for her.

His musings were broken by hearing his named called and, turning, he was happy to see his cousin, Colonel Fitzwilliam approaching his wife on his arm.

"Darcy, I am pleasantly surprised to see you here tonight. What do you do outside? Are you waiting for someone?"

Darcy bowed, "Richard, Cecily."

His cousin looked much as he ever did; he had not allowed his retirement from the military to be spent in idleness. Riding, fencing and such other active pursuits as would enable a gentleman to remain fit consumed much of his time for the pleasure they afforded as well as for their benefits to his health. Richard's wife was a sensible woman possessed of moderate looks but an amiable disposition. Theirs was not a love match but, as the Colonel averred, they rubbed along well enough together and, if neither could claim to a passionate attachment for the other, there was sufficient affection and respect between them to provide for a harmonious life together.

"Well, there is no need to be so secretive, Darcy. Who are you meeting?"

Before he could respond, Darcy saw Elizabeth walking towards him, accompanied by the Gardiners and the Simmonses. It took only a moment for his cousin to recognize her but when he did, he glanced quickly at Darcy in surprise before turning to smile at Elizabeth. He bowed and took Elizabeth's hand when she reached Darcy's side and all the civilities pertaining to introductions were performed. Richard was obviously pleased to meet Elizabeth once more but his eagerness to discover Darcy's involvement with her could be satisfied by neither the circumstances nor the need to proceed to their respective seats. Given the size of his box, Darcy was forced to express his regrets to his cousin, "Unfortunately, Richard, my box is full tonight; otherwise I would be delighted to have you join us."

"Think nothing of it, Darcy. I am with Henry and his wife in any event. However, as we will not have an opportunity to talk this evening, I may drop in to see you tomorrow. There is a matter I wish to discuss with you."

Darcy had no doubt as to the reason for such a call - Richard knew of Darcy's previous interest in Elizabeth and would not be satisfied with anything less than the full particulars. Darcy simply nodded but said he would be busy for most of the next day and that the morning after would be better. His cousin was not happy at the delay but as he could do nothing about it, he and his wife said their goodbyes and left to rejoin their party while Darcy's party proceeded to his box. With Elizabeth on his arm as they made their way through the crowd, neither was unaware of the stares directed at them, and Elizabeth was moved to tease, "I fear your name will be in all the society pages tomorrow, Fitzwilliam."

"Unfortunately, it is something that happens more often than I could wish." She laughed at his obvious discomfort, but then his tone became teasing. "However, tonight I am actually delighted with the attention." He stopped walking and slowly took in the sight of her before leaning in to whisper, "With the most alluring woman here on my arm, I take satisfaction in being the envy of every man present. You, my dear, will engage their interest far more than I this evening."

Darcy pierced her composure and Elizabeth suddenly felt undressed under his gaze. Her blush started at her face and moved down, and she watched as Darcy followed its path beyond the edges of her gown, causing his smile to broaden slightly. She opened her mouth to speak but was unable to utter a sound.

He chuckled, "Speechless again, Elizabeth! It seems I am becoming quite proficient at silencing your impertinent tongue."

Elizabeth leaned closer to him, forcing his attention to her bosom which was prominently displayed by her gown while she whispered, "Be very careful Mr. Darcy," she paused and blew slightly in his ear, "do not provoke me unless you are prepared to be teased and tormented."

Darcy swallowed and growled, "I look forward to it, Madam. Do not doubt it, I am ready for you."

In truth he knew he was more than ready for her. Her wit, her intelligence, her kindness, the beauty of her very essence had captured his attention and love. Her figure had always delighted him but the past eight years had been very good to Elizabeth Bennet; when last he saw her in Kent, her figure had been light and pleasing. But now, now it was captivating. Her gown shimmered as she moved, hugging her figure and doing so with a closeness he could only envy. And her bosom! How was it that he had not known of such treasures? They were now on display, barely covered by her dress. He knew it was of the current style, but he could not help wondering if she had dressed for him this evening; her bare shoulders, the low decolletage and the pendant necklace resting in the exact place he wished to explore with his fingers and lips. Was she trying to provoke him by wearing such a gown? If so, she certainly succeeded for it took all of his will to not slip his fingers inside her bodice and tease her as she was teasing him.

He forced his eyes up to meet hers and saw that she had discerned his attention to her….person. Good! Let her not doubt his attentions or his appreciation. He wanted no misunderstandings on this matter. Her blush diverted him again as he followed its progression and delighted when her breast suddenly pinked.

Elizabeth was saved by their arrival at Darcy's box and took the confusion attendant on getting everyone properly seated to regain her equilibrium, but it was immediately lost once more when Darcy seated himself beside her in the front row. Her heart fluttered at his closeness and she forced herself to a degree of calmness by looking around the theatre. This was, she knew, not the time or place to consider all the implications of his marked manner this evening; that the time he would offer for her was close she did not doubt. His attentions had been too marked to even harbour a thought otherwise. When that event would occur was the only question. For her part, it could not come too soon.

Her thoughts were deflected by Darcy leaning towards her, in his hand a pair of opera glasses. She could feel his breath as he whispered, "I found these before I left my house tonight and brought them on the chance that you would not be so equipped. It would please me to have you use them." Her awareness of him was such that it took all her composure to accept the offer calmly. She scolded herself and resolved to enjoy that evening's entertainment and put thoughts of the future off until later.

Despite her determination, once the theatre darkened, Elizabeth found it difficult to focus on the play. Darcy's close proximity and the warmth of his breath as he occasionally whispered beside her ear disconcerted her immensely. Never had she been so conscious of a man's presence. It was only her intimate knowledge of the play that allowed her to pretend during the first intermission, with credibility, she hoped, an awareness of the acting that had taken place.

Several gentlemen Darcy considered to be friends, attended by their wives or sisters, invaded their box during the second and third intermissions. Elizabeth observed Darcy's reserve slipping and, while certainly far from jovial, his manner showed pleasure in the company. However, it took but one newcomer who could claim only a distant acquaintance for his reserve to re-establish itself. Oddly, none of his friends seemed particularly bothered by the change – and one gentleman actually teased him about it - from which Elizabeth could only infer that this reserved behaviour was of long standing. His manner towards her remained attentive throughout and her obvious ease and ability to converse intelligently with his friends appeared to afford him considerable satisfaction. From his friends, she could detect nothing but curiosity and pleasure in her company which undoubtedly added to her comfort. As she was also intimately familiar with the play itself, it provided a ready source of conversation and she made no pretence of hiding her delight in seeing it enacted on a stage.

During the last intermission Elizabeth wished to stroll around the foyer to stretch her legs. Darcy was quite willing to escort her and they had been walking aimlessly for several minutes when their peace was disturbed.

"Mrs. Waring!"

Elizabeth turned towards the voice and a warm smile came over her face. The lady was of a certain age, accompanied by her husband, and was one with whom she was pleased to maintain an acquaintance.

"Lady Fairly! How pleasant to meet you. I was not aware that you had come to Town."

"And I was no more aware of your being here, my dear girl. I am glad to see you out and about again." The lady cast her gaze over Darcy and Elizabeth could see that she very much approved.

"Well, Elizabeth! Are you not going to introduce your escort?"

Elizabeth laughed, "I daresay I had best or you will take on the office yourself."

"As she is frequently wont to do," grumbled the lady's companion. "Best be about it, my girl."

Elizabeth sighed dramatically which earned her a small slap on the wrist by Lady Fairly's fan.

"Lady Fairly, Baron Fairly, may I introduce Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. Mr. Darcy, Lady Martha Fairly and Baron Jordan Fairly are neighbours in Wiltshire. Their estate is some twenty miles from Oaksley and we have dined together with some frequency."

"And now that your mourning period is over, we expect to see you with some regularity. How long shall you be in Town? We must have you to dine before we return to Dunworth. You are most welcome also, Mr. Darcy. Where are you staying Elizabeth? I am disappointed you did not think to call on us."

Elizabeth rolled her eyes are her inquisitor. "Mercy, Lady Martha. Let me answer your questions. I expect to be here for perhaps another fortnight." She cast an eye at Darcy before continuing, "I am staying with my Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. You met them several years ago I am certain. Let me see?" she paused to review what other questions were asked, "Oh…I did not think to call on you as I thought you were still at Dunworth. And…I would be pleased to dine with you."

Lady Fairly nodded enthusiastically, "I remember the Gardiners, the invitation is extended to them as well." Turning to Darcy she asked, "And you, sir?"

"I would be delighted to attend, Madam."

"Are you related, sir, to the Darcys of Derbyshire?" inquired Baron Fairly.

"I am, sir."

"I knew your father, though not as well as I could have wished. Fine man! Fine man! Related to the Fitzwilliams also I gather. Must be with that name."

"Indeed, the Earl of _ is my uncle."

"Mmmm. Not sure I agree with all his policies in the Lords but he argues his position well."

"Now, Jordan. No politics, please." Said Lady Fairly. She turned her attention back to Elizabeth. "Are you free for the evening after next?"

"I know of no engagements, your ladyship but I cannot speak for my aunt and uncle."

"I will send the invitations first thing tomorrow." Casting a quick glance at Darcy, she said, "I suspect we will have much to discuss."

With but a few more words, the two couples separated and, after ensuring that they had moved beyond the hearing of the Baron and his wife, Darcy inquired, "Am I likely to enjoy the evening, Elizabeth?"

She chuckled softly, "They are a dear couple. Very well meaning and very, very sociable. Anthony and I were in their company quite frequently - perhaps a half dozen times a year and we never had cause to repine the connection. We might have visited more frequently had they been closer but the road between Oaksley and Dunworth is not worth speaking about over long stretches." She grinned at him, "I suspect that you will be grilled relentlessly by the Baron as to your politics and by Lady Fairly as to your intentions."

"She stands in place of a mother to you?"

"More that she stands in place of a match-maker for all unmarried women in the neighbourhood. I, and you, are now within her ambit." She grinned at him, "Beware, Fitzwilliam. She will winkle out your intentions if you are not cautious."

A slight smile crossed his lips, "That will prove to be no great feat, Elizabeth. My intentions are very obvious, are they not?"

"I believe they are, Mr. Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth could easily detect his mock affront and gave him a teasing smile before leading them back to the Darcy box. Fortunately, the bell sounded to signal the start of the last act and the few remaining visitors quickly exited to return to their own seats.

As the play progressed, Elizabeth found that she had become quite comfortable with Darcy's physical presence beside her, which she had come to realize was, in truth, appealing. Very appealing. Had she not been previously married, her awareness of his physicality would have seriously discomfited her; but now, no stranger to the marriage bed, it was…stirring. During the last act, she was suddenly overtaken by a desire to be closer to him and she was tempted under the cover of darkness to give in to her urge. With her eyes on the stage, she lightly caressed his arm and then placed her hand on his. She could tell that her initial touch had been unexpected, but he did not remove his hand and, after a discrete adjustment, he interlaced their fingers together. Uttering a soft sigh, she felt herself relax and returned her attention to the play.

A wave of tenderness suffused Darcy's heart and he offered a silent prayer of thanks. This was the sign he had been waiting for. He no longer had any doubts.

Their exit from the theatre was not dissimilar to their entrance with a few people approaching to claim, or trying to claim, an acquaintance with Darcy. Elizabeth truly realized, as they made their progress, that as a recognizable figure in society, Darcy faced such pressures on almost every public social occasion. She could, more readily now, appreciate his reserve in such events and his discomfort with them. The haughtiness of his manner was perhaps partially attributable to his awareness of his station relative to others with whom he had found little in common or little to appreciate; however, his reserve and taciturn nature made it even more forbidding. It was, she believed, something he had ameliorated and softened greatly since she first knew him; his reserve she could tolerate since she was coming to appreciate the qualities of the man behind it. That her first husband was of a similar nature led her to believe that she was drawn strongly to such men.

The supper that followed at Darcy House allowed for a degree of intimacy that the public nature of the theatre could not. Of particular importance to Elizabeth was the effort that Darcy made to converse with Jane's husband. James Simmons was an amiable gentleman, possessed of a solid intelligence and, more importantly, a diligence and determination to make the most of it and any opportunities that presented themselves. His courtship of Jane had not been of an extended duration - an acquaintance of months, not years. It was the combination of determination and conviction that Jane was whom he wished to wed that finally convinced her to accept him. Elizabeth rather thought her sister, like herself, married without a passionate regard for her husband but with a deep respect and esteem for his character. That love had developed; Elizabeth had no reason to doubt. Simmons had one characteristic which Elizabeth liked greatly, and which Darcy would come to appreciate once he knew the Simmonses better; his ability to tease and gently provoke Jane, induced her to greater boldness, to more forcefully express her opinions and relax her mask of serenity.

While Elizabeth's own conversation was mainly absorbed by Jane and her aunt, she was careful to watch that which developed between Darcy and James Simmons. By the end of the evening, Darcy's natural reserve had faded and his manner eased. If he was not as comfortable with Simmons as he was with her uncle, Elizabeth had reason to believe that, in time, he would be equally relaxed with Simmons.

All too soon it was time for his company to return to their respective homes. If he was to act, he must do so now. He intended to ask for her hand but to arrange a private moment was imperative. He approached Elizabeth and, drawing her towards a window to afford them some privacy, asked quietly, "Elizabeth, I wonder if…If I were to call tomorrow at four, might you and I walk together in the park? Alone?"

Elizabeth understood immediately that the significance of this request. He did not usually call so late in the day, at least not since his first call, and it seemed that he wished for her company, and her company only, on their walk. These thoughts had taken scarcely a second or two and her answer was both quiet and warm. "I would like that very much, Fitzwilliam. I will look forward to it."

If she had dared lift her eyes to his countenance, she would have observed a most uncharacteristic smile. "Thank you, Elizabeth. I must now pray that the weather favours my purpose."

"Purpose, sir?"

"Purpose, Elizabeth." And with no answer other than a teasing smile he guided her back to the Gardiners who were preparing to take their leave.

When it came time to actually depart, he had assisted her into the carriage, pressed her hand to his lips and murmured, "Tomorrow."

She doubted not that his actions had been noted by her aunt and uncle; Darcy had made no effort to hide them. She met her aunt's raised eyebrow with a slight shake of her head, saying only that she expected him to call around four the next day. Her aunt was content to leave the matter thus, knowing that should Elizabeth need advice, she would seek her out.

If David Waring were several years older he might have found his mother's behaviour the next morning quite perplexing. She had been distracted throughout breakfast; she later failed to turn a page in the book she was reading in the front parlour for a full quarter hour; and David Waring knew that if he fidgeted as much she was doing, he would have been told to sit still.

Elizabeth could hardly believe her own nervousness about what was likely to unfold later that afternoon. She was sure that he would offer for her, although a scant month ago if such had been suggested she would only have been able to laugh dismissively. That a man who had been so angrily and harshly rejected in the past would return to make a second offer was impossible to credit. But she knew that it would be so. Of her own heart, she was now very certain. Her opinion of Darcy had changed dramatically in the years before they met at Gunter's. Any vestigial doubts in her mind as to her feelings had been eliminated over the past fortnight. Although she awaited his addresses with pleasure and anticipation, she smiled to think that she was almost angry at him for making her wait. She had been given no reason to doubt his heart, his intentions. He would ask, she would accept and, as soon as was feasible, they would marry. An outcome she awaited with the greatest anticipation.

Finally she became exasperated with herself and resolved to employ the time before Darcy arrived to better purpose than sitting and fretting. If she were at Oaksley, she would have any manner of tasks to absorb her thoughts, but in London, her options were limited. The appearance of her son and his nurse to take their leave, sparked a desire to accompany them. Although Jane was not expecting her, Elizabeth had no doubt that she would be welcomed. Within a matter of minutes she had retrieved her shawl and they were in the carriage and on their way to the Simmonses.

Her unexpected arrival was greeted by her sister with pleasure. Although the closeness the two sisters had shared before their marriages suffered from that change in their circumstances, they each remained the best friend and confidante of the other. Elizabeth shared all but her deepest and most private feelings with her sister; however, she had never shared the change in her perception of Darcy with her sister after she returned from Kent and had fully absorbed the content and implications of his letter. Even now, she doubted that Jane understood how completely her feelings had changed. That she was often in Darcy's company, Jane no doubt realized; however, her own duties and concerns appeared to have deflected her attention away from the burgeoning relationship. And Elizabeth was not of a mind to confide in her this morning. Her need was for calm and tranquility and, as her sister had an ample supply of both, she could help her restore her equanimity. By the time she returned to Gracechurch Street, Elizabeth had absorbed some of her sister's serenity and was ready to see Darcy.

She arrived to find that her aunt and cousin had gone shopping and, as her own children had been been left in the care of their Aunt Jane, the house was quiet. She seated herself in the front parlour and started to read one of the newspapers favoured by her uncle while she waited for Darcy. A quick glance at her watch – for the tenth time in the last half hour – now revealed that only thirty minutes remained before she could expect to see him.

Her solitude was suddenly interrupted when the maid entered the room and said hesitatingly, "Mr. Sebastian Stokes and Mr. Nelson Stokes, ma'am."

The two gentlemen swept into the room and turned to dismiss the maid. Elizabeth awoke from the paralysis that had seized her, lurched to her feet and, conscious of the danger and impropriety of her situation, realized that she could not allow the maid to leave.

"Jenny, stop!" The command in her voice was unmistakable and Mr. Stokes senior – Sebastian, Elizabeth assumed – turned towards her quickly but, and of the utmost importance to Elizabeth, Jenny did indeed stop.

"Sit over here, Jenny." Elizabeth pointed to a chair beside her and once assured that she had been obeyed – the maid's discomfort was evidenced in her trembling hands and wide eyes but Elizabeth would worry about that later – Elizabeth turned her gaze upon her visitors.

"I do not believe, gentlemen, that I wish to entertain you today. If…"

"That will not do, madam. We will be heard and…"

Elizabeth moved to pull the cord signalling for a footman and, within seconds, one presented himself at the door. She could see that the older gentleman was not disturbed by his presence as he turned back to face her saying, "I suggest, madam, that it is in your best interests to hear us out. He" and he gestured towards the footman, "may remain outside the door if that will satisfy you. But I will be heard and you would be extremely wise to listen." He gestured towards the maid. "There is no need for her to be here."

Jenny appeared to wish to leave but her attempt to rise was quickly halted by Elizabeth's firm grasp of her arm.

"Jenny shall remain. If her presence bothers you, you may leave."

Sebastian Stokes was clearly unhappy at having been disobliged. Elizabeth could not know his intent but, clearly, the presence of a maid would circumscribe his actions and for that she could only be thankful. She resumed her seat and waited for him to speak.

He was quick to do so but directed his first comment to Jenny.

"You, girl, sit over there." And he pointed to a chair nearest the door. He then turned to Elizabeth saying, "She can satisfy the demands of propriety as well from there and still allow us to talk with some privacy. After Jenny had been given Elizabeth's reluctant approval and moved to the indicated chair, Stokes and his son moved to chairs adjacent to Elizabeth's and Stokes addressed himself to her, speaking in a voice that would be difficult for the maid to hear.

"We have not been introduced, Mrs. Waring, but I believe you know who I am. You met my son some months ago. My name is Sebastian Stokes." He waited for her response and, as she did not give one, seemed increasingly disconcerted.

"Well, madam?"

"Well what, sir?" snapped Elizabeth. "I have two extremely rude men force their company upon me, threaten me and refuse to leave the house. I will listen to what you have to say but do not expect even the most basic civilities. Your behaviour has done nothing to warrant such from me. You have demanded to speak! So speak!"

Stokes senior clearly was taken aback at being so fiercely opposed by a woman. If his scowl affected Elizabeth's composure, the change was imperceptible to anyone and Elizabeth only felt herself getting more furious as she gazed at both men. The younger man, she dismissed. They had met before and her opinion had not improved with time – she thought him a fool when he proposed and she saw no reason to reconsider that opinion. His father might be a different matter; however, his letter had not impressed her with his intelligence or rationality and she was disposed to think as poorly of him as she did of his son.

"My son made you an offer of marriage several months ago. You were very unwise to reject it, madam. I can only hope that you are prepared to reconsider. Whether I will be proceeding with a lawsuit to have you removed as guardian for my nephew and niece is a matter that you may decide. I…"

Elizabeth could not restrain herself further, "My solicitor has written you on that matter. We welcome the suit. Should you choose to proceed with it, your name will be held in contempt and ridicule." She waved a hand dismissively. "I can, after this display of ill-breeding, only hope you choose to apply to the court."

Stokes countenance grew redder and he jumped to his feet and took a step towards her. Jenny squealed in fright and the door opened quickly. The footman, Matthew, appeared in the doorway, his gaze fixed on Stokes and obviously ready to come to Elizabeth's assistance. She nodded at him.

Turning to Stokes, she managed to speak calmly, "I suggest, sir, that you either resume your seat or I will have Matthew escort you from the house."

Stokes sat and Elizabeth nodded at the footman once again. "Thank you, Matthew. It is good to know that you are so attentive. Under the circumstances I believe I shall require the door to remain open."

Stokes began to protest but was silenced when invited to leave if the situation was not to his liking. Elizabeth waited.

Finally, after a minute of two in which he appeared to be considering how best to proceed, Stokes began again.

"Allow me," he said speaking softly, "to present a sad story for your edification, madam. A young woman of inferior birth – such as yourself perhaps - but possessed of sufficient charms as to befuddle a decent man into believing himself in love, married him and, in so doing, had bestowed upon her a significant portion of his wealth. Wealth, I might note, that his family had accumulated over the years and to which she would not otherwise have been entitled. Her existence has deprived his family of that which is justifiably theirs. This young lady appeared to be everything that was decent but we know her true form, do we not?. And it is most clearly displayed in the behaviour of her wanton sister. Oh yes! Do not think we are unaware of the behaviour of your youngest sister, madam."

Elizabeth snorted inelegantly, "I would hardly assume that you are. My husband knew of the circumstances. Your own son was present when his will was read and my late husband's acknowledgement of my sister's circumstances."

"You misunderstand my purpose, madam. So far, that information is known to only a few but…let me resume my story. As I have just noted, the wanton behaviour of the young woman is known to only a select few. As she was known only in the immediate vicinity of her home, the shame was largely limited to that area. You and your sisters have removed from Hertfordshire into places where your sister's shame is unknown. Your reputations and those of the remainder of your family have, over time, been repaired. I believe that several are prominent in business and you are viewed with considerable respect by all your neighbours in Wiltshire. How will the business associates of your uncle and your brother view such a revelation, madam?"

All pretence that they were speaking of some hypothetical person had been dropped.

"And your own circumstances, Mrs. Waring. How would the people who have invited you into their homes and befriended you, react to such news about your family?"

Elizabeth was stunned at the attack. Her mind was paralyzed for several long moments, and fortunately Stokes appeared to believe that granting her the reprieve would increase her panic and confusion.

"You are yourself connected to the family, Mr. Stokes. Your reputation will suffer along with ours."

He shrugged, "My father's position will protect me and we will disavow any connection. In fact, we will use my family's reputation to add credit to the story. Who will people believe? You? Or the Earl of _"

Stokes grinned savagely, "I suggest that you reconsider my son's offer of marriage, Mrs. Waring."

"I think not! You have said quite enough, Mr. Stokes. I must ask you to leave immediately."

"You will regret this if I do so! I assure you of that."

"I may well do, sir, but I would regret to an even greater degree being attached to a man like your son or forced to associate with one such as yourself." Elizabeth made no effort to disguise the contempt she felt for the two gentlemen she faced, "Evil surrounds us and sometimes the best one can do is to accept the lesser of the evils available. You and your family disgust me and I will not allow my children to be associated with those who portray such a lack of honour or principle. You. Will. Leave. Now. Sir."

Stokes' voice rose as he responded to her insult, "You dare, madam! You ….."

"That will do, sir!" Everyone was startled by the words that cut through Stokes' protest. Elizabeth's spirits rose as she saw Darcy enter the room.

"Mrs. Waring has demanded you leave. I suggest you do so immediately. No, sir. Say nothing more! Leave or I will have you forcibly removed!"

The two gentlemen could hardly mistake the fury in his voice. A quick glance at his angry countenance and the apparent willingness of the footman to assist in removing them was sufficient to convince them that they had no alternative but to quit the premises. Casting a last angry and disdainful glare at Elizabeth, they made their departure. Elizabeth could sense the young maid who had collapsed in hysteria and, quickly gathering her into her arms, attempted to soothe her until relieved of the task by the housekeeper. As soon as the room contained only herself and Darcy, she turned and stepped into his arms.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter 24**

With a sigh of relief, Darcy seated himself in his carriage. In an hour or less, he would be engaged to the woman who fascinated him beyond all others. As it lurched into motion, he settled more comfortably with his gaze fixed on the passing surroundings. If there was anything of interest to be seen, it quite escaped notice, for his thoughts were much more agreeable engaged. He had had barely enough time when he returned from meeting his solicitor to change his clothes and refresh himself. If only his own wishes needed to be consulted, he would have paid his addresses to Elizabeth as early this morning as propriety would have allowed but it was an unfortunate reality that his business interests had a claim on his attention. His solicitor, Mr. Tolson, had been importuning him for more than a week to meet regarding matters of pressing urgency. Two days ago Darcy finally agreed and had chosen today to do so. If it were not for the fear that a cancellation would have caused Tolson to have an apoplectic attack, he would have readily postponed it for another day. However, it was done; they met and, aware that his client's focus had drifted frequently during their meeting, Tolson was ruthless in pushing matters through to their resolution. Unable to resist, Darcy left the man speechless with his departing words, "Your next task, Mr. Tolson, is of the greatest urgency. Kindly begin preparing settlement papers to be finalized within the next several days. I will provide the particulars by letter tomorrow."

As he rode to keep his appointment with Elizabeth, Darcy was still chuckling at the look on his solicitor's face. Darcy put Mr. Tolson and his concerns out of his thoughts. He had spent much of the night and early morning preparing himself for his next and most important endeavour. He had proposed twice in his life and the lessons learned from his disastrous first proposal had been applied when making his second offer. If he felt nervous, it was from anticipation. His own wishes had not been in doubt for some time now. His re-acquaintance with Elizabeth had woken those feelings which had lain dormant for years. He had only truly loved one woman in his life and, by their second meeting, that love was as strong, if not stronger, than ever. The Elizabeth he had known in Hertfordshire and Kent was then but a young woman with wit and intelligence far from developed. The Elizabeth he had recently met was a woman in the fullest sense of the word, possessed of the same wit and intelligence but moderated by experience and wisdom. He was not unsure of her affections; whether she loved him as much as he did her, he could not know for certain. The indications of her regard were clear and he was now convinced that she awaited his assurances with as much anticipation as he did himself. Laying her hand in his the past evening had been the deliberate act of a wife – as clear a signal of her wishes as could be vouchsafed.

It had been no small relief to find that his eldest daughter, Ann-Marie, had become most comfortable in Elizabeth's company and he had seen much in the conversations between them to believe that, in the future, they would be as close as any mother and daughter. That had been his only concern and he was now sure that both his daughters would welcome Elizabeth as his wife and as a mother. Ann-Marie was already modelling some of her behaviour on Elizabeth's and had, on more than one instance, quoted to him something she had said. Ann-Marie had wished to come with him today and had been greatly disappointed at his refusal but placated by his promise that she might be able to join them the next day.

He glanced at his watch and noted the street on which they travelled. If no obstructions were encountered, he might actually arrive in a quarter hour and be a few minutes early. If he could further speed his carriage, he would do so. The thought forced a reluctant laugh from him. _Tis a good thing that Richard cannot see me now. I can almost hear him teasing me – he would have his amusement of me for years._

When he arrived at the Gardiner's house, he was surprised to see another carriage stationed in front and he could only hope that any callers would not impede his plans to speak with Elizabeth in private.

As he alighted from his carriage, he took note of the other. He could discern no crest and a careful scrutiny determined that the carriage was not remarkable for any particular superiority in quality or comfort and the horses did not appear to be of noticeable constitution or appearance. It was of a type commonly used by gentlemen of comfortable means.

He was greeted at the door by an anxious butler and quickly directed to where Elizabeth was to be found. Alarmed by the presence of a worried-looking footman who stood outside the open door and loud voices emanating from the room, Darcy paused for a few seconds to try and understand what was taking place.

He recognized Elizabeth's voice immediately. He had not heard her speak so since Hunsford. The coldness of her anger could, even now, disconcert him. What he heard next was even more disconcerting.

"I suggest that you reconsider my son's offer of marriage, Mrs. Waring."

"I think not! You have said quite enough, Mr. Stokes. I must ask you to leave immediately." She said.

He did not recognize the voice of the man who was speaking but the bluster and threat was clear. "You will regret this if I do so! I assure you of that."

"I may well do, sir, but I would regret to an even greater degree being attached to a man like your son or forced to associate with one such as yourself." Elizabeth made no effort to disguise the contempt she felt for the gentleman she faced, "Evil surrounds us and sometimes the best one can do is to accept the lesser of the evils available. You and your family disgust me and I will not allow my children to be associated with those who portray such a lack of honour or principle. You. Will. Leave. Now. Sir."

The gentleman's voice rose as he responded to her insult, "You dare, madam! You ….."

Darcy could hesitate no longer; a glance at the footman was sufficient for the man to follow his lead and he pushed open the door and took several steps into the room. Immediately seeing a gentleman of some fifty years or more facing Elizabeth and another sitting close by, he raised his voice to override the gentleman's protests.

"That will do, sir!"

It was clear that the room's occupants had been too much involved in their argument to have noted his arrival. Everyone was startled and Darcy could now see that the second gentleman, who appeared some ten years his junior, had jumped to his feet at the interruption.

The look of relief that washed over Elizabeth's countenance spurred him on.

"Mrs. Waring has demanded you leave. I suggest you do so immediately. No, sir. Say nothing more! Leave or I will have you forcibly removed!"

He was not sorry that his physical presence was such as to intimidate the two men. The footman at his shoulder, who was himself of noble dimensions, made moot any question of their disputing his command.

To say that the two men scurried from the room might be overstating the case but neither saw fit to contest the directive and they hugged the wall furthest from Darcy and the footman as they left. It was a departure as expeditious as possible for two men wishing to be anywhere else. The Gardiner footman followed them out, leaving the room's door open behind him.

As Matthew passed through the door, the housekeeper, drawn by the disturbance, entered and relieved Elizabeth of the care of the maid who, to Darcy's eyes, appeared on the verge of hysterics. In a matter of seconds, maid and housekeeper also departed, closing the door behind them, although Darcy was barely sensible as to their movements. His attention was on Elizabeth. He had hardly taken a step towards her when she moved into his embrace and rested her face against his chest. He could feel her shaking with rage.

"That brute! What an arrogant, despicable man – such a want of character – such viciousness - and his worthless foolish son! I have never, in all my existence, wished to strike another being as much as I wished to do so just now. Oh, why are women not afforded such satisfaction?"

Darcy's arms tightened protectively around Elizabeth and he lightly stroked her back.

"Madam, I am quite surprised at your reaction to this encounter. It has ever been my understanding that your courage rises with every attempt to intimidate you.''

Elizabeth huffed and batted him on the chest. "Vile man! Must you remember every foolish comment I have ever made?"

"Am I now to understand that you spoke to mislead me? That you were professing opinions which in fact are not your own?"

"It is cruel of you to sport with me at this moment, sir. I give you fair warning, you are provoking me to retaliate."

"I am not afraid of you, Elizabeth."

"I believe you should be, William. I believe I am in your debt for even more retribution."

Her actions belied her words as she once more buried her face in his chest. His arms tightened around. He kissed the top of her head as he pondered on the scene he had interrupted.

If he was to understand what had been said – and really he could not doubt his ears - Darcy realized that Elizabeth had received - and spurned - an offer of marriage.

"So, am I to understand that you have finally received a proposal worse than mine?"

He had meant his words to be taken lightly, to tease her out of her ill-humour. Her reaction quite took him by surprise for she attempted to step back from him, an endeavour prevented by his enfolding arms.

"You are so infuriating…." Then she reached up, pulled his head down and kissed him. Soundly.

Darcy was stunned. He had dreamed of kissing Elizabeth more times than he cared to admit, but this kiss was nothing like what he imagined. This was no maidenly kiss. No. This was the kind of kiss men fought over. He broke away, murmuring, "Elizabeth. You undo me." Her hands, which had snaked behind his head, would not release him and drew his lips back to hers. She would not allow any separation. He was lost! Gone was all conscious thought as his kiss urgently met hers.

His hands which had encircled her seemed, through no conscious design of his, to have come to grasp her head between them. His lips left hers and began a journey across her face that visited her eyes, her ears and her neck before reclaiming her mouth again.

It was the feel of her body against his that finally forced him back to awareness, for Elizabeth had pressed herself so closely to him that she could not but be aware of his desire. She moaned softly as her hips moved slowly against him. It was all he could do to stop himself from lowering her to the sofa and making love to her then and there. Somehow he forced his lips from hers. Gasping for control, he leaned his forehead against hers and calmed himself by listening to the sound of her ragged breathing. He struggled for words to express how he felt but they did not want to be found, for Elizabeth had once more moved closer and silenced him with her kiss.

It is hard to say how long this second embrace might have lasted for their restraint left them immediately and they took such liberties with their hands as lovers allow. It was only the sound of distant voices in the hallway outside their room, that made them fully aware of their surroundings.

Elizabeth leaned back against his arms which once more encircled her and with the most serious of miens addressed him.

"It will not do, William. I have compromised you most thoroughly. Your reputation is quite ruined, I assure you, and there is but one remedy. I must be allowed to make amends. It appears I will be forced to marry you, sir!" She suddenly grinned at him, "Fortunately, it shall not be an onerous burden for I do most ardently admire and love you."

"Forced, madam? Forced?"

"It is the recommended solution in such cases, is it not?"

Darcy smiled wickedly, "Well, if I have been compromised, then there can be no objections if I do this." And he kissed her once more. "Or this!" and his hand moved up to cup her breast and tease the hardened nipple. "Or this!" and his hand moved down to stroke her bottom.

She moved closer, tightened their embrace and said, "Nor should you mind if I do such." Her hands grabbed him by his backside and she pressed herself hard against him.

"Mercy, madam! Mercy!"

And they both began to laugh.

"You can have no idea, Elizabeth, how long and how desperately I have waited for this day."

"Elizabeth's eyebrows rose. "Am I not to have a reply to my offer, William?" She wiggled her hips slightly, "Or has my wanton behaviour quite….disconcerted you?"

"I am…disconcerted, my love, as well as disturbed, disarmed and…"

"You do not give the appearance of one who is disarmed, Mr. Darcy."

"Ah….Well...Perhaps that was not the best choice of words."

"No more procrastinating, Mr. Darcy. I would have your answer, sir!"

Darcy smiled at the reversal of roles that had somehow taken place. If Elizabeth had meant to spare him the task of making a second offer to a woman who had rejected him once before, it was kindly meant but completely unnecessary. Nonetheless, as she had asked, he must answer.

"Madam…Elizabeth…it is with the greatest of pleasure that I accept your offer of marriage."

Elizabeth looked up at him. She dearly wanted to kiss him again but the sounds in the hallway caused her to hesitate.

"When you gaze at me so, Elizabeth, I wish to kiss you most diligently."

"I would by no means wish to suspend any pleasure of yours, William."

The kiss had but begun when a rap on the door caused them to jump apart and then laugh at their behaviour. Elizabeth called for the interloper – who proved to be Mrs. Gardiner - to enter. She looked at their flushed faces and swollen lips knowingly. And, if she chose to inspect Darcy's appearance a little more thoroughly than her niece's, she made no mention of her findings.

"I thought" said she, "that I had allowed sufficient time for a private interview. Mrs. Temple has informed me that you had other callers, Elizabeth, whilst I was out." Mrs. Gardiner directed an inquiring gaze at Elizabeth. "They were, according to Matthew, most…ungentlemanly. Mr. Stokes, he said?"

"Yes." Elizabeth replied.

Before she could speak further, Darcy interjected, "I would also very much like to learn what transpired before my arrival. I heard only enough to cause no small amount of concern." He looked at Elizabeth expectantly.

She grimaced and nodded, "There is much that I must reveal." She looked at her aunt. "Perhaps some tea and biscuits. It has been…" she glanced at Darcy with a warm smile, "a day I shall not soon forget."

Mrs. Gardiner exclaimed, "You are engaged!"

"Indeed we are, madam." Responded Darcy, "Elizabeth has made me the happiest of men. She made me an offer of marriage and I accepted before she could reclaim her wits."

"Elizabeth offered?" Mrs. Gardiner chuckled,..."such a happy conclusion. I am very pleased for you both. I think you will do very well together." She waved them to the sofa saying that she would arrange for refreshments and bustled out of the room taking obvious care to ensure that the door was fully open.

Darcy smiled at Mrs. Gardiner's congratulations, but it was an absent-minded one as his thoughts had already returned to the matter of Elizabeth's recent visitors.

"Who were they, Elizabeth and why were they threatening you for it is clear to me that such was their intent?"

Elizabeth sighed. She had known that an explanation would be required eventually but the assurances from her solicitor had led her to believe that it was not a matter of pressing concern and that explanations need not intrude on the happiness of her courtship.

"The elder gentleman, Mr. Stokes, is my brother by marriage…he is married to Anthony's older sister. As unbelievable as it is, I had never met him until he barged his way in this afternoon." She suddenly giggled, "I never thought about it, but it seems the younger gentleman, his son, is my nephew. I have met my … nephew twice before – but I am getting ahead of myself."

"Mr. Stokes is a barrister in Manchester and a younger son of Lord _; according to Anthony, the Stokes family believes it is a noble line, and their arrogance is unmatched, something quite evident in Mr. Stokes." She paused and stroked Darcy's hand. "I may have accused you once of being a prideful man but you were nothing to him. Needless to say, Mr. Stokes was most seriously displeased about Anthony's plans to marry me, and he visited Oaksley shortly before our wedding to make his views known. He assured Anthony that marrying me would be a degradation, not only to him, but to Mr. Stokes and his entire illustrious line, and he demanded that Anthony end our engagement. Anthony was not amused and he cut ties with his sister and her husband."

Mrs. Gardiner had returned while they were conversing, and silently, so as to not interrupt her niece, dispensed tea and biscuits and then settled back to listen to Elizabeth's explanation.

"Although Anthony was unmoved by his brother's demands, he knew Mr. Stokes could be a formidable foe given his social and professional connections and he was concerned about leaving me unprotected should he die unexpectedly and he took precautions in my settlement agreement and in his will to prevent his brother from taking control of Oaksley and becoming guardian to my children if we were so blessed."

Darcy nodded, signifying his agreement with Waring's efforts to protect Elizabeth.

"The first time I met my nephew was when he accompanied his mother to Anthony's funeral. I do not think we spoke more than a few words to each other during that visit. He insisted on attending the reading of Anthony's will, which I permitted even though he had no right to do so because he was not a beneficiary. He was clearly displeased by the disposition of my husband's property, but he said nothing at the time. One year later, immediately after my mourning period had ended, he again came to Oaksley uninvited. On that occasion, he made me an offer of marriage. I am certain you can imagine the words he used to explain what a privilege it would be for me to be the new Mrs. Stokes. To his utter amazement, I refused him."

It was all Darcy could do to keep his voice calm, he cleared his throat and with a smile inquired, "The younger man, I assume, is the one who proposed?"

"Yes!" laughed Elizabeth. "It was a proposal to rival that of Mr. Collins. Foolish and distasteful in all its particulars."

"Shortly after that, I received a letter from his father." Elizabeth went to the desk, pulled a letter from the drawer and gave it to Darcy to read. Darcy clenched his fists as he read it and could barely contain himself by the time he finished.

"Did you respond to this drivel?"

Elizabeth explained her solicitor's advice and actions.

"My solicitor wrote Mr. Stokes some months ago advising him that we would be delighted to meet him in court as his claims are groundless and his suit, frivolous. I had not thought to hear anything more from him."

"And yet they called on you today." Darcy said. "The younger man, I assume, is the one who proposed?"

"Yes!" laughed Elizabeth. "It was a proposal to rival that of Mr. Collins. Foolish and distasteful in all its particulars."

"What was their purpose? What was the nature of the threat? For clearly a threat of some sort was made," demanded Darcy. His tone was harsh and the two women could not mistake his increasing anger as he listened to Elizabeth's story.

Mrs. Gardiner looked alarmed and Elizabeth hastened to reassure him. "They have not threatened violence, William. At least not to my person! My reputation however, they deign to leave in tatters."

"How so? How is that possible?"

"Lydia!"

"Lydia?" said Mrs. Gardiner and Darcy in unison.

"But she has been gone these past eight years!" Exclaimed Mrs. Gardiner.

Darcy waited patiently.

"They plan" said Elizabeth, "to exhume her scandal. To make known to all of our acquaintances, here in London and in Wiltshire, my sister's ruin."

"Surely, after such a passage of time, no one would care." Darcy replied slowly, his mind active with the possibilities.

His countenance was so grave that Elizabeth began to worry. While a scandal long dead might not be of concern to him, would he be equally sanguine should it have new life breathed into it? She was about to inquire as to his thoughts when he turned to address Mrs. Gardiner.

"Your husband's business, would such….gossip harm it?"

Mrs. Gardiner shook her, "I cannot say. I would think that a few of his customers might be bothered enough to withdraw their business. My husband would be better able to answer to that, Mr. Darcy."

Darcy nodded, "I expect that Mr. Simmons' opinion must be similarly canvassed." He turned back to Elizabeth.

"I have no doubt but that your reputation can withstand the gossip in Wiltshire, Elizabeth. If the warmth displayed by the Fairlys is any indication, you are held in no little regard. And…" he smiled, "quite deservedly so."

"But I would not have your reputation tarnished, William."

Darcy reached over and took both of Elizabeth's hands in his own, stroking the backs with his thumbs. "My reputation will not suffer, I can assure you. In fact, I am convinced that our marriage will enhance it greatly."

Elizabeth thought that if he meant to calm her by stroking the backs of her hands, he was singularly unsuccessful in his effort. It was all she could do to not draw closer to him but, as her aunt would hardly accommodate her by quitting the room, she had to content herself by smiling warmly at him.

"Why then were you so grave, William. You gave all the appearance of someone greatly worried."

"That was my pensive look, Elizabeth. My worried look is, I am told, quite different."

"I trust that is so, else I will never be able to tell them apart." She shook his hands, "And on what then were your pensive thoughts engaged?"

Darcy looked at Mrs. Gardiner for a moment or two before replying, "You know, do you not, that my uncle is the Earl of _?" She nodded.

"Oh!" exclaimed Elizabeth, "I had quite forgot! He will be sorely displeased at his family being aligned with ours."

Darcy could hear the sudden dismay in her voice and spoke quickly to address it. "He will not be pleased….if he hears of it with no forewarning. But I am sure that once he meets you and hears the particulars of the situation, he will be most willing to assist in dampening any such talk." He looked at Elizabeth and spoke with such determination that she could not doubt his sincerity. "I will not give you up, Elizabeth. My uncle will be made aware of my intentions. He knows me too well to question my resolve. He will support me - us - even if only to maintain family solidarity. We shall marry and ….." He smiled. "I have just had the most happy thought. This situation - our problem - will be rendered trivial by our marriage, and the sooner we marry, the less we need be concerned by such gossip." He now laughed, "Mr. Stokes will find himself quite at a loss."

Mrs. Gardiner suddenly chortled, "Society will be too much titillated by the marriage of Mr. Darcy to have much interest in a small scandal that is some eight years old." She snorted, "It is not as if Lydia is the first young woman to plague her family so."

"Nonetheless," asserted Darcy, "I shall speak with Mr. Stokes and his son but first we must consult with your uncle and Mr. Simmons and I must inform my uncle of our engagement."

 **Grillons Hotel, London**

The two men entered their suite with faces as much angered and displeased as when they had entered their carriage to return to the hotel. As it was a rented carriage, they could not be assured of privacy and were perforce only able to talk of inconsequential matters while they travelled. Since neither gentleman was in the mood for such conversation, the ride back to the hotel was uncommonly quiet. When they finally reached their suite, their constraints were released. Nelson Stokes slammed the door shut and turned to his father.

"Who the hell was that man?"

Sebastian Stokes did not respond. His ire had transformed into a peevish displeasure.

At his father's silence, Nelson Stokes regained some of his composure before continuing.

"I noticed the crest on his coach – it appeared to be a stylized D. Were you not able to discover the man's identity when you questioned the coachman?"

Stokes shook his head. "He was tight lipped and refused to share any information, but from the quality of his uniform, his master is a man of some consequence."

"Why would such a man visit a house in that neighborhood? What business could he possibly have there? For a certainty, he was not unexpected." Nelson Stokes was pensive as he continued, "She obviously knew him – the expression on her face revealed as much."

His father grunted, "I had not noticed. Are you certain of this?"

He nodded his assent and sauntered over to the table bearing the drinks. "Port?" he inquired of his father and, upon receiving his assent, filled a wineglass for each of them and carried one to his father. His motions were mechanical as his mind was paying scant attention to his activities.

"What miserable timing! You had almost persuaded her to accept my suit when this gentleman walks in and orders us out."

His father looked at him incredulously, "You believe she was ready to accept you? Is that what you think?" He shook his head. "You are an idiot."

Ignoring the insult, Nelson Stokes continued, "I do not like it. It was none of his business, he had no right to intervene. We would not have departed until you carried your point."

"Do not be ridiculous! She had already ordered us out. He but ensured we could not do otherwise but accept that order. That footman would have done the job should he have been forced to! He was less than civil in showing us out and I dare say he would have enjoyed ensuring our swift departure."

Stokes gulped down the rest of his drink. "Damn. She has more fortitude than I expected. I doubt any other woman would have withstood the threat of having her reputation ruined."

Both men were silent, busy contemplating what had just occurred.

"Well," his father grunted, "there is nothing to it. As it does not appear that she will marry you willingly, then she must be prepared to marry you unwillingly. And you must do what is required to make that happen."

Apprised of his father's thoughts, Nelson Stokes could only agree and much of the evening was subsequently spent in devising their next actions.


	26. Chapter 26

**Chapter 25**

 **Gracechurch Street, London**

Dinner had been a joyous celebration and questions abounded and such answers as could be supplied, were. When was the wedding to be? – As soon as possible, allowing time for Mr. Darcy's sister and her family to join them from Cornwall. Where was the wedding to take place? – Elizabeth indicated a preference for Wiltshire, and Darcy did not wish to gainsay her on the matter, so Wiltshire it was to be. Had the children been told? - Yes and no. Elizabeth had spoken to her son and daughter; Darcy would speak to his the next morning. Was Elizabeth planning to have a wedding dress made? – Darcy rolled his eyes but still looked a little surprised when Elizabeth responded that she saw no particular need for a new gown as she had several that would serve the purpose and, casting a teasing eye at her betrothed, stated she had no wish to delay her marriage over such a trivial matter. Where were they to go on their wedding trip? – It was Elizabeth's turn to express surprise when Darcy suggested visiting Cornwall – his sister's husband had a cottage in St. Ives which he thought might be suitable. Her expressions of pleasure made clear her approval of the idea. How long would they be gone? – A tentative suggestion from Elizabeth of staying in St. Ives for a fortnight was met with enthusiasm by Darcy. One question did cause some consternation. Who was to care for the children until Darcy and Elizabeth returned from St. Ives? – A quick exchange of glances between Jane and her husband accompanied by a nod from the latter was sufficient to produce an offer from Elizabeth's sister to care for the brood if Oaksley could be put at her disposal, for as the lady exclaimed, "I would not care to speak to my sanity should I be required to have charge of them in the city for a fortnight. I daresay I would have such a case of nerves as to make my father quite believe my mother had returned."

Darcy surprised Elizabeth when he indicated a desire to host a family dinner some three days hence to introduce his Fitzwilliam relations to Elizabeth and her family. "I will call on my uncle and aunt tomorrow to inform them of our engagement and wedding plans – for I know they are in town and do not expect to leave for the country for at least a fortnight."

Mr. Gardiner was not unaware of the difference in stations between Elizabeth's family and Darcy's but could determine no way to circumspectly phrase his question.

"How will your uncle and aunt receive this information, particularly given…?" A slight shrug of his shoulders indicated his oblique reference to the matter of the Stokeses.

Darcy nodded and deliberated a moment or two before responding, "Perhaps that is a question we might discuss later along with another matter of concern."

The Simmonses were clearly surprised at the sombre cast that had suddenly appeared on everyone else's features and he had opened his mouth to inquire into the reason when Mr. Gardiner forestalled him.

"While I cannot express any surprise at your engagement, Lizzy." Said Mr. Gardiner, "I did arrive too late to learn how it came about. Perhaps, sir" and he turned to Darcy with a jovial look, "you might tells us of how you proposed. Did you throw yourself upon my niece's mercy? On bended knee, perhaps? Come sir, we are all ready to be amazed."

To the surprise of Mr. Gardiner and the Simmonses, Darcy, Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner all began to laugh and it was some moments before Darcy had sufficient mastery of himself to address Mr. Gardiner. That he felt comfortable enough in their company to be so relaxed as to drop his usual reserve was a surprise to himself although less so to Elizabeth. She remembered Wickham saying that Darcy could please where he chose to do so. If Darcy had, at one time, limited his circle with whom he was willing to be sociable to those of his own station, she had long since come to realize that he had learned to accept and enjoy a wider range of acquaintances. Her pleasure at seeing him so unreserved amongst her relatives warmed the smile she directed at him. She chuckled at his response to her uncle's teasing.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, sir, but the sad and unfortunate truth is that I did not propose to your niece…and yet we are engaged!"

Mr. Gardiner's eyebrows were saved from disappearing into his hairline only by virtue of the receding of said hairline over the course of the years. Jane Simmons was equally surprised but, perhaps because she knew her sister so well, she arrived at the heart of the matter more quickly than either her husband or her uncle.

"Lizzy, tell me you did not?"

"Did not what, dear sister?"

If the playful look on Elizabeth's features had not illuminated the matter for James Simmons and Mr. Gardiner, their ignorance was alleviated when Jane exclaimed, "You did! You proposed! You sly creature!"

At this point Mrs. Gardiner, Darcy and Elizabeth burst once more into laughter at the incredulous faces of the other two gentlemen. Elizabeth's uncle recovered more quickly as he knew his niece too well to believe it impossible; however, Mr. Simmons required some additional minutes before the improbability of the event caused him to join their merriment. As he said to Darcy shortly thereafter, "I have few doubts that this shall be only the first of many such…hazards that you will suffer – or enjoy? – at the hands of our Lizzy, Mr. Darcy."

Mr. Simmons, as we are to become brothers, I would be pleased if you were to call me, Darcy."

Simmons was pleased but not altogether surprised at this request. He had seen how comfortable Mr. Gardiner and Darcy had become and had noted the familiarity of their address to the other. That it should be offered to him was a desire – and willingness – to merge the families into a closer relationship. His acknowledgement and response requesting Darcy to call him Simmons was cheerfully accepted.

Jane could not but notice her sister's happiness and, giving no thought to her past dealings with Darcy, in her soft voice stated, "As you are to become my brother, you shall – and I insist upon it – call me Jane. Lizzy and I have often, in the past, regretted that we had no brother. "It would please me greatly to be able to call you so, ….Brother."

Darcy could only nod in assent. Elizabeth seeing him at a loss for words, began to speak of her son's reaction to the news of her marriage.

"David was most pleased to learn that he was to have father and is already making plans to show him his favourite places at Oaksley. Of course," she chuckled, "he is also uncertain as to whether having two more sisters is altogether desirable but I convinced him that Ann-Marie would enjoy riding and playing as much as he does."

"I shudder to think," said Darcy, "how much trouble those two will cause their nannies when allowed loose in Pemberley to play 'Hide and Seek'."

"Dear Lord!" shuddered Elizabeth mindful of how active her son could be. "I fear David will be a poor influence on Ann-Marie."

"Pemberley - and we - will survive, Elizabeth. The sound of children at play will bring the house to life. Ann-Marie will not suffer from his enthusiasms."

"You know not of what you speak, sir." Replied his betrothed. "My daughter is, I have been told, possessed of my disposition and I was by no means quiet and restrained in my endeavours."

Mr. Gardiner began to laugh, "I can remember vividly your mother's displeasure at your antics, Lizzy. Between your love of reading, climbing trees and playing out-of-doors with the children in the village, she quite despaired of your ever becoming a proper young lady."

"My dear Uncle, she despaired of that even when I was one and twenty. Her nerves were sorely tested."

The servants had, by this time, entered the room and begun to remove the remains of the meal. Mrs. Gardiner, seeing that everyone had finished eating, suggested that they remove to the parlour for tea and coffee as there were some matters of importance that needed to be discussed.

A quarter hour found them all comfortably situated in the parlour and a cup of their favourite beverage in their possession. The Simmonses and Mr. Gardiner had been told only that the Stokeses had visited and thus had no intimation of the nature of that visit. Mr. Gardiner, who had been kept fully apprised of his niece's dealings with the Stokeses, had no reason to believe it a particularly friendly encounter but nothing in the demeanour of either Elizabeth or Darcy had suggested that it was altogether distasteful. The Simmonses, however, had previously been afforded only the barest of details – Elizabeth had explained her visit to London as involving only some business with her solicitor - and thus were quite unprepared for what was to follow. When Elizabeth described the meeting, the ending of which was corroborated by Darcy, their shock was profound. When Darcy inquired of Gardiner and Simmons as to the implications of the purported scandal for their business, both men became thoughtful. It was several minutes before either responded but, before they could do so, Jane Simmons was countenance was troubled as she began to interrogate her sister, "Why am I just now learning of this, Lizzy? Why have you not told me of this matter?"

Elizabeth's smile was rueful, "I did not intend to hide anything from you, Jane. Please believe that. I have not shared this with anyone apart from our uncle and aunt – not even William."

"But why? 

"Indeed, Elizabeth, I am curious as to your answer as well." Stated Darcy.

"I believe," interjected Mr. Gardiner, "that Lizzy did not consider that the matter would develop as it has."

"Yes," continued Elizabeth putting as much sincerity as possible into her words, "The Stokeses have yet to file a suit against me and my solicitor was quite convinced that they would never do so. I saw no reason to worry anyone unnecessarily."

Elizabeth could see that neither Jane nor Darcy were altogether satisfied with this answer but the simple truth was all she had to offer. In reality, the presence of Darcy had quite replaced almost all thoughts of Stokes and the lawsuit. Before either could pursue the matter further, James Simmons chose to return the discussion to the matter of more pressing concern.

"As to the impact on my business, Darcy, I cannot say with any particular surety, but the number and diversity of my customers is such that I cannot believe it to have any noticeable impact. I have five particularly large customers but they have all been associated with my company since my father began it some thirty years ago. They are all reasonable and respectable personages and my reputation is, I am sure, proof against any such slanders." He turned to Elizabeth, "You need not be concerned on your sister's account, Lizzy. Nor on mine. This can touch us very little, if at all."

Mr. Gardiner nodded in agreement. "I believe I can concur with no hesitation that such calumnies will be of little concern for me also."

He glanced at Elizabeth and then Darcy, "We can easily surmise that Longbourn will not be adversely affected but your situation is of concern, Lizzy. How will your neighbours react? And yours, Darcy?"

Darcy looked at Elizabeth to decide who was to respond and she gave him the briefest of nods to cede the initiative to him.

"Elizabeth and I have already spoken of this. She has given me to understand that her reputation in Wiltshire is sufficient to weather any slander of this nature and, after seeing how she was received by Lord and Lady Fairly, I have no reason to doubt that conviction. As for myself," he shrugged, "the Darcy name and reputation will not be harmed and, in truth, I am convinced once society learns what a treasure I have married, the Darcy name will stand higher than before."

He grinned savagely, "As well, I am to speak to my uncle, the Earl of _, tomorrow of my intentions. He will not look kindly on anyone attempting to besmirch the Darcy name and, by implication, the Fitzwilliam name. Not pleased at all! – And my uncle is not loathe at all to make his displeasure known. I fear Mr. Stokes and his son may find their plans have taken a turn they do not like."

"But will your uncle really be disposed to speak out against the Stokes family – another member of the peerage?" inquired Mr. Gardiner. "It seems, I must confess, so very unlikely."

"He will, I am convinced, do so although with some…reluctance perhaps." Affirmed Darcy, "It will be a matter of the family's honour and reputation. He will not be…happy when the matter is laid before him. He is rather particular about distinctions of rank and station and fastidious about preserving the reputation of the Fitzwilliam name. If he had any expectations of my marrying, his aspirations would be that it was to a wife possessed of the connections and status that he believes should be attached to the Darcy name; however, he and I have been at odds on this matter in the past and he knows me too well to believe I can be dissuaded from my course. I believe firmly that his concerns will be assuaged when he meets Elizabeth. I thought we might invite my uncle and aunt to dinner Darcy House to introduce Elizabeth to them. I would have all of you present as well."

Mr. Gardiner raised his eyebrows, "Mayhap that might be asking a bit much of your relations, do you not think? I suggest that the initial meeting include only Elizabeth and my wife as a chaperone."

"I would have Jane there as well!" Elizabeth's tone was emphatic.

As Jane and Mrs. Gardiner were both not adverse to being included, all that was required was to ensure the presence of the earl and his wife.

Jane Simmons had remained thoughtful throughout much of the discussion. If no longer disposed to think only the best of everyone, she was not prepared to to face such implacable antagonism or despicable behaviour from one – Mr. Stokes - who purported to be a gentleman. Her fears for her sister were finally expressed, "Lizzy, you must be on your guard. Such threats as he has made are not to be taken likely. What would he not do?"

Elizabeth turned to her sister, surprised that she would ascribe such motives to anyone. "You believe him capable of harming me, Jane?"

Jane nodded reluctantly. "I learned a valuable lesson some years ago, Lizzy. One who could make such threats cannot be trusted to act reasonably or properly. I cannot imagine what he might do but I would not have you exposed to any risk, if it can be avoided."

"That" interjected Darcy, "is one of the reasons why I believe we should remove to Oaksley for the marriage and do so as soon as possible. Stokes can have no knowledge of our actions and we should be able to secure Elizabeth's safety there more easily than here in Town. I shall obtain a license and we can be wed in a fortnight."

"Why wait so long?" asked Mr. Gardiner, "Surely a faster marriage would be advantageous."

Elizabeth replied before Darcy could do so. "William and I have spoken on this. He wishes to have his sister present and I wish to have my father and Mary present as well. It is unfortunate that Kitty is away with her husband. I doubt she will have returned in time to attend. A fortnight will allow for all the arrangements to be made. I wish for it to be a simple affair."

Elizabeth could see that her sister was not altogether happy and surmised that waiting a fortnight did not satisfy her concerns about Elizabeth's safety. "Do not fret, Jane. I promise to take particular care and…"

"She certainly shall!" growled Darcy. "If I am not with her or Gardiner or Simmons, then she shall be accompanied by two of my best footmen if she ventures out. No, Elizabeth!" for he had seen that lady begin to declaim the necessity for such protection. "You shall not gainsay me on this. We cannot trust that the Stokeses will not venture something, particularly as they now know that you are prepared to face any scandal they might raise. They may believe they have little to lose. No, no! We shall protect you until we marry and that will then provide all the protection you require."

Elizabeth opened her mouth to protest further when her aunt exclaimed, "Lizzy, desist!" she laughed, "I know it offends your sense of independence but surely you see the wisdom of having such protection. As Jane has stated, we cannot know to what extremes these two. . .men will be prepared to go. It is better to chafe at the protection, even should it prove unnecessary, than rue its lack should they attempt something."

Elizabeth considered her aunt's words and realized that her objections were foolish. She then thought to dissemble slightly, "I must express my wonderment at my sister being so concerned at another's bad behaviour. I have never, in the years I have known her, ever heard her speak so poorly about anyone. Is this truly my sister before me?" Elizabeth tone was teasing but her amazement was not feigned.

"I could wish it were all a misunderstanding, Lizzy but such proofs as have been supplied make that impossible to accept." Jane's expression of unhappiness at being faced with such evil behaviour was manifest but having been taught a lesson by George Wickham, she was not disposed to believe the best of another who had given ample evidence of a vicious character.

The hour was growing late; Elizabeth suddenly found that the turmoil of the day had exhausted her. The struggle to remain alert and lively was being lost. Darcy could see her fatigue, and, as he had a number of demanding tasks to perform the next day, chose to take his departure. His carriage was called and within a quarter hour he would be on his way to Darcy House. His leave-taking of Elizabeth was warm and solicitous and he took no little comfort that she embraced him closely in the privacy of the front hall. Her kiss was warm, tender and contained a promise of passion although he could feel that she required his comfort more than desire at the moment. "I love you." was his last word. Her response was to graze his lips with her own and saying very softly "I love you." before gently pushing him in the direction of his carriage. She watched his carriage until it was lost from sight before entering the house.

 **Darcy House**

His sleep had not been undisturbed. Fortunately, it was his dreams of Elizabeth, vivid in their details of their love-making. It had been the most unwelcome of feelings to wake in the morning to find her missing from his bed for so real had been his visions and so complete his satisfaction that he could not help but believe that she had been with him. That in a fortnight he would wake with her beside him him did much to reconcile him to his circumstances.

Washed, clothed and suitably composed he ventured into the nursery to take his breakfast with his daughters. Dismissing the various attendants after they had finished eating, a process which, in his youngest daughter's case also involved a thorough cleaning of face and hands, he claimed their attention.

"Ann-Marie, Helen – I have something to share with you. Something I believe will please you both greatly."

Helen looked at him briefly before returning her focus to the doll which she was struggling to undress. Ann-Marie's gaze was, however, much more attentive and, if he read the signs correctly, hopeful.

"You may have guessed, Ann-Marie, and I hope that your fondest wish has been granted." He said with the happiest smile that his daughter had ever seen, "for I have asked Mrs. Waring to become my wife – and your mother – and she has accepted us."

He had never thought it possible for his daughter to squeal so loudly and with such happiness. She hugged her father, her sister and then demanded to be taken to see her new mother.

"Unfortunately, my dear, I must stay here for your Uncle Richard is to call on me this morning; however, I can send a note to Mrs. Waring to ask if you and Helen might visit her this morning. Shall I?"

As her agreement was immediate, it was but a matter of an hour for a note to be written and a response received, welcoming a visit by the two girls. Darcy had just seen them off in a carriage when his cousin arrived at his front door.

Richard Fitzwilliam had to take but one look at his cousins barely suppressed happiness to discern what had likely happened. Darcy was not one who, when happy, overflowed with mirth; but his countenance, his very manner, bespoke of a overriding happiness to one who knew him well. Fitzwilliam did not believe he had ever seen his cousin so joyful.

"I believe, cousin, that you must have some news to share with me."

"Indeed, I must confess that I have such tidings as I had once never considered possible. Mrs. Waring, Elizabeth, has consented to be my wife." Darcy's grin lit up his features and his excitement was palpable has he paced around his study.

Richard Fitzwilliam was profuse in his congratulations. "She is an excellent woman, cousin. At least she was when I knew her as Miss Bennet. What are her circumstances now? She has married and is now a widow, obviously. How did you meet? Come! Come! Tell me all."

"Allow me a few minutes to marshall my thoughts, Richard." Darcy signalled for his housekeeper to arrange for refreshments, forced himself to sit in his usual arm-chair and began to speak of his meeting with Elizabeth and his efforts to court her.

"I met Elizabeth, quite providentially, at Gunter's. Her manner was such, so warm, that I called on her the next day. You may not credit this, Richard, but i declared my intentions to court her, and court her properly, that same day. We have both admitted our mistakes and put the past behind us. I have been in her company almost daily and never wish to be separated from her again. I decided, the evening that we met you at the theatre, to propose the next day. Yesterday, in fact!" he shook his head, "So much has happened it almost seems unreal at the moment."

"So when are you to marry? I suspect you have no desire for a prolonged engagement."

"Neither of us wishes for that! In fact, there is reason to no wish to delay the marriage."

Richard chuckled and grinned knowingly, "I see…."

Darcy looked at him in confusion, "You see….what?" and then the meaning of his cousin's rather impertinent grin dawned on him and he began to sputter, "You cannot…No!...you are completely wrong in such a surmise!...it is not so! I would never…" he finally regained control of his thoughts and rather angrily stated, "You are completely wrong. Mrs. Waring and I have not acted improperly…well, not _that_ improperly, at least." The last was said with a rueful smirk as he remembered the fervency of their embraces the previous afternoon.

"Then what is the reason for the haste to be leg-shackled, cousin?"

"It involves a gentleman by the name of Sebastian Stokes and his son who, it seems, wishes to force Mrs. Waring into marriage so as to gain control of the estate left to her son by her husband. An estate which she manages on his behalf."

Richard Fitzwilliam straightened in his chair. "You have all my attention, Darcy. Please do not spare my sensibilities. Tell me all."

Darcy snorted, "You do not possess any sensibilities, Richard. Fifteen years in the regulars quite destroyed them all."

"True. True. So you may relate all the grisly details with no qualms for your listener."

And Darcy proceeded to do just that.

"It apparently began," he said, "when Waring's sister and her husband, Sebastian Stokes by name, travelled all the way from Manchester to Wiltshire to protest Waring's intention to marry Elizabeth."

"Protest!" exclaimed Fitzwilliam, "Had they made her acquaintance?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"What could they hope to achieve by it?"

"From what Elizabeth's understands – Waring apprised her of the details afterwards – they believed her to be a fortune-hunter, interested in marrying to gain access the Waring's estate and fortune." Darcy could see that his cousin was about to comment further and he continued before he could be interrupted, "Elizabeth was told by Waring that he suspected that his brother's own motives were mercenary – that they believed he had, or would, name their son as his heir."

"Was his estate so grand then?"

Darcy nodded his head, "It is a very respectable property. Elizabeth says it has an annual income of a little less than five thousand a year; moreover, it appears that Waring was extremely modest in his expenses and with his mother's dowry had saved some forty thousand pounds."

Fitzwilliam whistled, "'Tis a very tidy sum!"

"Half was settled on Elizabeth and the balance reserved for a second son or daughters. Elizabeth's daughter has a dowry of about twenty thousand and her son, the estate – Oaksley."

Fitzwilliam shrugged, "An admirable situation to be sure but I fail to see a problem."

"That my dear cousin is because your character is better than that of Sebastian Stokes."

Fitzwilliam looked at his cousin quizzically, awaiting an explanation.

"Yes, well it appears that Waring's will not only did not bequeath anything to the Stokeses, it established Elizabeth as her children's guardian, along with a neighbour who was a close friend of Waring and specifically and explicitly excluded any of the Stokeses from being named a trustee for the children or estate. Elizabeth was also made responsible for managing the estate, a task she apparently learned with Waring's assistance and has done quite competently."

"I still fail to see a problem, Darce."

"That is solely because you are too impatient to allow me to finish." Darcy paused only briefly before continuing, "Stokes apparently was not disposed to give up his desire to gain control of the estate and almost to the day that Elizabeth's year of mourning was concluded, Nelson Stokes, the son, appeared and made her an offer of marriage which," and he chuckled with little true mirth, "was apparently as deficient as that made by our Aunt Catherine's hapless rector, Mr. Collins, when he proposed to Elizabeth some years earlier."

"She obviously refused."

"Indeed! She said it was truly a most ridiculous proposal. In any event the Stokeses were not prepared to allow the matter to rest and about a month later she received a letter from the senior Stokes which was most abusive and indicated that he was prepared to take legal action on the grounds she was not a suitable trustee or guardian for the children or the estate." He laughed and Fitzwilliam could see his cousin had enjoyed what had come next.

"Elizabeth, of course, consulted a solicitor and he found the letter to be so ludicrous that his response was to invite Stokes to bring the case forward for he had no doubt of a favourable decision nor that the result would leave Stokes looking very foolish. I might add that of all this I was quite ignorant when I entered the home of Elizabeth's relatives to make my addresses yesterday."

"And?"

"I entered to find Elizabeth speaking very angrily to two gentlemen who I was to learn were Sebastian Stokes and his son. I heard them threaten Elizabeth and entered as she dismissed them from the house. I do not know what might have occurred had I not happened on the scene. A footman was beside the door but not in a position to intercede and although he looked ready to do so, he had not been called for."

Darcy relaxed back in his chair and concluded his explanation by saying, "The presence of the footman and myself was sufficient to persuade the Stokeses to desist and, after they were shown out of the house, Elizabeth and I became engaged."

Fitzwilliam looked at his cousin carefully. He could not be sure but for some reason he suspected that there was more to the story of the engagement than had been vouchsafed to him, but another matter was of more immediate concern.

"And what was the threat being made by Stokeses?"

"Stokes proposed to make known, to spread as widely as possible, the particulars of the ruination of Elizabeth's sister, Lydia Bennet. He appeared to believe that the scandal would tarnish the reputations of Elizabeth and her relations and that she would marry his son to prevent it from happening. Elizabeth was quite firm in disabusing him of such a notion. Quite firm." He smiled, "She told him she would rather see her reputation besmirched than marry into a family possessed of such a vicious character."

Fitzwilliam nodded slowly, his thoughts on the implications for his family.

"Pater will not be happy to learn of the prospect of a scandal attached to Mrs. Waring." He warned Darcy.

"I had already reached _that_ conclusion, Richard; and it matters not."

Fitzwilliam's eyebrows rose.

Darcy was emphatic, "I shall marry Elizabeth with or without your father's blessing. He knows me too well by now to think otherwise. He will have no choice but to support me despite any misgivings he will most likely harbour. I am not so naïve as to believe that he will welcome the situation. I am sure he will be most seriously displeased – at first - but I am convinced that he will, in fact, approve of Elizabeth – as will your mother – once they have made her acquaintance."

"When do you plan to inform them?"

"This afternoon." Darcy glanced at his watch, "I have sent a note requesting to call on them both at one this afternoon."

"I shall accompany you. I can, at the very least, speak to the worthiness of the Elizabeth Bennet that I knew in the past."

Your assistance will be quite welcome, cousin." Darcy rose and stretched, "You must, however, excuse me for a few hours as I have some correspondence to attend to. I must inform Georgiana and Judith's parents and I must also provide some directions for my solicitor as to the marriage settlements.

Richard nodded, "I shall meet you at my parent's home at one then." He turned to go, "It is reassuring to know that Mrs. Waring's situation is much improved upon that of Miss Bennet."

"Indeed – much improved. She need marry only if she wishes to do so and I feel myself quite blessed to have gained her affections." He paused for several moments, "You know, eight years ago I thought that Elizabeth Bennet represented all that was beautiful. The Elizabeth I am to marry now is so much more that I can hardly credit my good fortune."

"Her dowry and position will, I believe, lessen my father's concern, at least somewhat."

Darcy shrugged, "it is immaterial to me. I would marry her if she had not a shilling." He paused for a moment, "Before you leave, I plan to invite Elizabeth and her relations to dine with me two nights hence. I intend to invite your father and mother and would be pleased if you and Cecily would join us."

"I do not believe we have any engagements for that evening but I shall send a note to confirm that we will attend." And at this point Richard Fitzwilliam took his leave and Darcy directed his footsteps to his study to address his correspondence.

 **Gracechurch Street**

Jane Simmons was…not worried exactly. No she would not describe her feelings so. She was…concerned. She had thought she knew her dearest sister's feelings quite well and yet that knowledge had been overset yesterday. She certainly had not been blind to the attentions being paid to Elizabeth by Mr. Darcy, nor had she forgotten that Elizabeth had revealed that her opinion of him had much improved, but she had obviously been blind to the depth of her sister's regard for the gentleman. She admitted to herself that while she had noted these attentions, she had been distracted by other matters to give them little concern and chastised herself for the complacency that had made the oversight possible. An engagement was to be expected. That was the purpose of a courtship. But so quickly? Elizabeth had been very circumspect in her revelations and had not vouchsafed to reveal more than her opinion of him had improved significantly. Nevertheless, to move from dislike to an affection strong enough to enter an engagement seemed so very precipitous.

Before he called on her, Jane thought that Elizabeth still disliked Mr. Darcy as much as she had eight years ago after his proposal in Hunsford. It was difficult for her to reconcile the knowledge that Elizabeth had not held him in great esteem when last they discussed him, with the fact that she was now prepared to marry the gentleman. Of _his_ affections there could be no doubt. Of her sister's, Jane was confused. She could not comprehend how such a change could have come about or how the depth of Elizabeth's regard could have been hidden from her so successfully. Why she was disturbed, she did not know. Perhaps it was only the shock of learning of the engagement and having been so blind to her sister's inclinations.

And so, here she was, approaching Gracechurch Street to call on her sister and, hopefully, come to a clearer understanding. However, when she entered the house, she was surprised to learn that the Darcy children were visiting. After ascertaining that they were in the garden behind the house, Jane made her way quickly to join them. She smiled and stopped in the doorway to observe Elizabeth with the four children. The two youngest were happily seated on her sister's lap, and the two older children were sitting next to her on a bench. As Jane stepped into the garden, she heard Elizabeth regaling them with one of her famous princess and the dragon stories Jane's own children loved so well.

"… and Squire David, took Excalibur and plunged into the dragon before it could reach Lady Ann-Marie. The dragon was terribly frightened and …"

"Was it dead?' piped David.

"No indeed, but it was quite frightened and the wound hurt so much that it decided to fly away. Squire David and Lady Ann-Marie now had an even bigger problem. How were they to get out of the cave and go home? Fortunately, Lady Ann-Marie was a clever little girl and had marked her path into the cave and they carefully began to find their way out."

"What did she mark it with?" asked Ann-Marie.

"Bread crumbs." Replied Elizabeth.

Jane took another few steps into the garden meaning to sit herself unobtrusively as possible until the story was complete but Elizabeth first noticed her approach and the children immediately thereafter.

"Aunt Jane!" called David, "Mama is telling us a story about dragons and swords and…and…"

"Caves and goblins!" added Ann-Marie.

"So I gather. Please continue, Lizzy. I should not wish to interrupt the story." Laughed Jane.

Some five minutes later, the story concluded after several misadventures that required trees to be climbed, streams forded and more dragons avoided or frightened away. The children were then consigned to the care of their nannies and Elizabeth sighed, caught her sister's eye, rose and waved her forward. They removed themselves to another bench some few yards away from where the children were playing. Elizabeth sighed once more, "They are at that particular age where learning to play with another child can be…difficult. Jane laughed, "If one was to take my children as an example, it does not get a great deal easier as they get older." She looked at the two children playing. "Truly, they do not appear to me to be particularly contentious."

"I suppose they are not. I just hope that we can create a harmonious family."

Jane laughed, "From the scene I just observed, you are certainly on the right path. However, while I doubt you will ever have to suffer the discord that characterized Longbourn, Lizzy, to expect harmony with a child like my namesake may be too optimistic. She does seem to have your character after all and you were ever the boisterous child." She looked over at the two youngest and then added, "I suspect our mother would take some solace in that fact. She might consider it a fitting revenge."

"True, and Fitzwilliam assures me that Helen is of a similar disposition. I suspect my life will have no shortage of frantic moments." She paused cheerfully, "I will have to teach them how to climb trees properly so that they do not fall and break any limbs."

Jane began to chuckle at the thought but the mention of Mr. Darcy brought her purpose to the forefront of her thoughts.

"Lizzy, I…" she struggled to find the proper words for she did not want to offend her sister.

Elizabeth turned to gaze at her, surprise written over her features for it was clear that, whatever Jane wished to discuss, it was a matter which discomposed her exceedingly.

"Yes?" she prompted.

"Lizzy, I was quite….unprepared to hear that you and Mr. Darcy were engaged. That you had proposed to him, in fact."

"Your surprise at my proposing is understandable, but why would our engagement be unexpected? Surely you could have seen how much I enjoyed his company?"

"But you disliked him so thoroughly eight years ago! Of course I saw that your regard for him had improved but I did not realize that your affections had improved so greatly. I simply had not expected that you held him in such regard as to consider marriage so soon after making his acquaintance again."

Elizabeth shook her head in dismay. While she and Jane had been the closest of confidantes for much of their lives, after the Hunsford proposal, she had been less forthcoming. Then, after Lydia disappeared, their lives diverged and their opportunities to be intimate had diminished. And somewhere along the way, the sisters had somehow stopped sharing confidences as they had done before marrying. Perhaps it was the natural result of marriage itself as her husband had been the one to whom she turned in such instances, not her sister. She suspect the same was true for Jane. It was natural and just.

"I do hold him in considerable esteem, Jane. It was not the work of a minute or an hour, nor can I point to a particular occasion and say that this was when my regard developed, but I now believe him to be the finest man I have ever known. In the years before I married AnthonyI gave much thought to Mr. Darcy and to my…misconceptions and misunderstandings. I came to….wish that I had given myself a chance to know him better for his letter and my tour of Pemberley showed a man of considerable merit. And one I am now pleased to marry. Very, very pleased."

"Then I am glad to hear it! I know that your affections for Anthony increased during your marriage. That was obvious to anyone who knew you well and saw you together with him. But it was not so when you married although I believe you did respect him a great deal. There was, I suspect, a good deal of prudence behind your decision to marry then."

"Jane!" interrupted Elizabeth, "I must stop you now. I will admit that I did not discount the prudence of a marriage to Anthony; but I assured you, did I not - and I will repeat it now - I held Anthony in considerable affection when we married. I would not have accepted him otherwise."

"And you feelings for Mr. Darcy?"

"You will think me shameless, Jane, for I know your character all too well. But I must confess that to wait for a fortnight to be his wife is almost too much to bear with equanimity. I would marry him tomorrow if it were possible."

"Then I am pleased." replied Jane as she embraced her sister. "Very well pleased, indeed!"

 **Severn House, London**

Richard was waiting for him outside Severn House. They entered and, learning where the earl and his wife were expecting them, made their way to that room directly. Long familiarity with the house and its inhabitants did much to alleviate any unease that Darcy might have felt and, while he hoped that his uncle and aunt would accept his choice graciously, he would not be surprised at any initial reluctance or even distaste. If either of the latter arose, he knew it would be a product of having to deal with having their aspirations once more denied. Their eventual acceptance of Judith had not, in any fashion, lessened their hopes that he would make a more advantageous second marriage.

The earl and his wife were comfortably ensconced in the small family sitting room and the countess was in the act of pouring a cup of coffee for her husband when her son and nephew entered the room.

"We did not expect to see you, Richard." said his mother, her curiosity sparked by the unplanned visit by her son who leaned over and bestowed a kiss on her cheek.

"When I learned of Darcy's visit and its purpose, I invited myself to accompany him."

The earl's eyebrow's rose. He waved the two younger men towards a chair; however, only Fitzwilliam chose to sit. Darcy took up a position facing his uncle and aunt. The earl pre-empted his opening words.

"Welcome nephew. I must assume from the request to meet with us and your behaviour that you have news you wish to impart. And news of some import, I now suspect from your manner."

"Indeed, Uncle, Aunt. I do but before I speak to that matter there is another on which seek your. . .advice, perhaps is the most appropriate word."

The earl's eyebrow rose once more. His nephew was not in the habit, in recent years at least, of seeking advice from him.

Darcy had intended to announce his engagement and then inform his uncle of the problem with the Stokes family; however, as he made the short trip to Severn House, he wondered if his uncle might be more forthcoming about the Stokeses if the subject was broached before any announcement.

"Indeed. I had occasion to encounter two gentlemen yesterday, a Sebastian Stokes and his son. He is related to the Earl of _, a brother, I understand. Do you know of the family? I cannot recall ever hearing of them."

His uncle frowned and his aunt made a moue of distaste.

"Percival Stokes, the eighth Earl of _." His uncle literally spat the words.

"I can assume from your reaction that you do not regard them highly." responded Darcy.

"What have you to do with that family, Darcy?" his uncle's tone expressed some concern.

"Before I address that question, I would like to know why you both have reacted so strongly."

His uncle replied slowly after a moment's thought, "I am not surprised you have heard little of them, hiding away at Pemberley as you are wont to do. It is not that they are particularly bad but the current earl displays a want of sense that is out of keeping, in my opinion, with the position he holds." He smiled ruefully, "In many respects he reminds me of my sister, Catherine, although with even less sense, if that is possible to believe."

"I find it hard to comprehend that simple foolishness would cause such distaste."

"The family" said the earl, "is not known for any particular dissolute behaviour; however, they possess a remarkably ill-deserved sense of entitlement and are, as well, very covetous. I remember an instance where one of the late earl's sons took a fancy to a young gentlewoman with a handsome dowry. He pressed his suit, made an offer of marriage and was quite incensed when it was turned down. The young lady's family was quite respectable but that appeared to hold little weight with the gentleman concerned and his father was enlisted to press the match. When that failed, the Stokeses made it their business to disparage the girl and her family far and wide.."

The countess interjected, "She was a fine girl but the gossip quite damaged her reputation for a year or two. She eventually married - and married well - but their treatment of her was infamous."

"I suspect it also made other families quite reluctant to consider or reject a suit by a member of the Earl of _'s family." suggested Fitzwilliam.

The earl nodded, "I hope, Darcy, you are not considering aligning yourself, and us, with that family?"

Darcy snorted, "I can assure you that i am considering no such thing, uncle." He wondered at his uncle's reaction. While the incident mentioned was obviously distasteful, it did not appear to warrant the degree of dislike that was being shown; however, that was a matter he would explore later.

"Then might you relieve our anticipation and inform us as to the purpose of this meeting?"

"Certainly. Uncle, aunt, I am pleased to announce that I will be marrying a young woman that I have admired for many years."

Neither the earl nor his wife were astonished at the news. Their speculations had centred on this possibility, and had been supported by one or two references in the newspapers' society pages of their nephew's recent activities.

"Is this the woman that you have been seen with lately? The theatre, if I remember correctly." asked the countess.

"It is."

"Who is she? What is her background? The society pages simply called her Mrs. W."

"Her name is Mrs. Waring, a widow whose husband died over a year ago. I knew her some eight years ago as Miss Elizabeth Bennet."

"I met Miss Bennet at that time, father. She was visiting a friend whose husband was Aunt Catherine's rector. A very fine young woman." Fitzwilliam cast a teasing glance at his cousin, "And one I would have pursued myself had she possessed an adequate dowry."

Darcy scowled at his cousin who only grinned mockingly at him; however, his attention was quickly reclaimed by his aunt's next comment.

"There is some connection to the Stokes family?" His aunt's concern was obvious.

The earl was aghast, "Please assure me that no connection exists. I would not wish to have us tied to them. Such a connection would be abhorrent!"

"Uncle, please allow me to finish." Darcy overrode his uncle's diatribe before it could gain momentum. "Mrs. Waring is, I concede not of our circle; however, she is not deficient in terms of fortune nor does she lack connections. She is – and I cannot emphasize this too greatly – my choice for a wife and is an estimable woman in every particular. I am honoured that she is willing to marry me. There is a connection to the Stokes family but not one she wishes to further. Quite the reverse actually. I understand she and her late husband were estrranged from his brother."

His uncle subsided, grunting with some relief at Darcy's last statement. He had, once before, learned to his regret that his nephew was not one to be dissuaded from a course he had determined upon. He could, however, hope to extract more information about the young woman his nephew was to marry.

"What are her circumstances?"

Darcy spent several minutes explaining as succinctly as possible, his past relationship with Elizabeth and her current situation. He could see his aunt and uncle visibly relaxing as he laid before them her circumstances. The connection to trade was received, if not happily, at least with equanimity when the respectability of the individuals was assured.

"I see no particular problem with anything you have related, Darcy. I wonder at your raising the matter of the Stokes family?"

"There is one matter, uncle, that I must lay before you and it is the reason for inquiring about the Stokes." His gaze took in the inquiring faces of his aunt and uncle and wondered how distasteful they would find the revelations he would make. A quarter hour later the deed was done and he took considerable consolation in the disgust portrayed by his relations as the situation of Elizabeth's sister and the machinations of the Stokeses was revealed.

"I commend your young lady, Nephew, for refusing him under such circumstances!" exclaimed the countess. "She showed considerable fortitude."

The earl considered his nephew carefully. "You are resolved then, to marry this woman?" When Darcy nodded firmly, he continued, "Then I suppose we must do what ever is necessary to suppress or deflect such. . .distasteful gossip. Allow me to think on it. It would not bother me a great deal to act on your behalf. I daresay the Fitzwilliam name alone will be sufficient to stifle such a rumour." And there was a quick expression of what Darcy considered satisfaction that crossed his uncle's features as he declared firmly, "do not doubt it, Darcy, I shall be quite pleased to assist in this endeavour. Quite pleased!"

Fitzwilliam chose to intercede at this point, "I believe, father, that you and my mother should meet Mrs. Waring. I understand that Darcy has planned to introduce her to you at a dinner two nights hence. Cecily and I will be attending."

"When do you propose to marry?" asked the countess.

"A fortnight from now. In Wiltshire."

"Ah, so soon then" said the countess thoughtfully, "I believe we should meet Mrs. Waring immediately. Have her come to dinner tonight, Nephew!"

Both Darcy and the earl were rendered speechless for several moments. Darcy recovered first. "Tonight?"

"Indeed. If we are to know her, and under such circumstances, it is best not to waste any time."

"I believe she will want to have her aunt accompany her for propriety."

The countess waved her hand dismissively. "That matters not! At seven then. I shall write her a note immediately, if you will supply her address."

"I had planned to travel there when I leave here. Ann-Marie and Helen are visiting her as we speak. I will act as messenger."

"So your children have met her?" The earl asked. "How do they get on?"

"Indeed they have! Ann-Marie is overjoyed to have a mother. She likes Elizabeth exceedingly. She almost told me to propose," Darcy laughed.

The earl grunted."That is well!"

The countess smiled, "Four children under the age of five. Pemberley shall be a lively place."

Darcy and Fitzwilliam remained no longer than it took for the countess to write the invitation. Her husband took the opportunity to discover more about the woman his nephew was to marry and found nothing he learned to be objectionable.


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter 26**

"I understand from my nephew that you take a very active role in managing your estate, Mrs. Waring?"

The earl's query was not surprising. Although both he and his wife were civil to her, the earl's questioning was persistent and somewhat intrusive. Even more so than she had anticipated. A touch of impertinence crept into her response.

"Indeed, your lordship. I confess I already was experienced in managing my father's estate, but it is much smaller than Oaksley. When my husband expressed his desire for me to be capable of managing his estate to ensure that it would be preserved for our son, I was rather eager to learn. But surely your lordship is not unfamiliar with women managing an estate. Does not your own sister do so?"

His lordship harrumphed at her remark. He and his sister had never been on the best of terms and her management of Rosings Park was a source of irritation. That he could not fault her results only served to increase his aggravation although he knew himself well enough to realize that his dislike of his sister's officious interference in matters outside her purview had coloured his opinion of all of her efforts.

He ignored her attempt to change the direction of his investigation. "Do you not have a competent steward?"

"Indeed I do."

"And yet you engage actively in overseeing his work?"

"Mr. Darcy trusts his steward implicitly and but he scrutinizes his steward's work and is involved in all major decisions. If he is to be believed, and I have no reason to do otherwise, you also are very involved in the management of your estates. Why should I, or any woman for that matter, do less? I do this for very practical purposes, your lordship. How can I truly understand my tenant's concerns unless I speak with them and how am I to appreciate their conditions unless I see them for myself?"

"It is, you must concede, an unusual role for a woman. How did your management of your father's estate come about?"

For the first time Elizabeth thought the earl was asking a question that reflected an honest desire to understand her. She wondered if she could afford to speak plainly to him. She was also conscious that they were not speaking in private and that Richard and his wife, both of whom were sitting across the table from her, were listening closely to their conversation. The dining table was actually quite intimate, no doubt by deliberate design of the countess. It was a matter of seconds for her to decide that if she expected the Fitzwilliam family's support, she owed them frankness.

"It began, your lordship, after my youngest sister, Lydia, ran off with a soldier. My father, whose attentions to the management of Longbourn had always been somewhat lacking, gradually withdrew to his book room and rarely ventured forth. Someone had to oversee the management of Longbourn and work with the steward to resolve any problems that arose and, of all my sisters, I was best suited. Much like our father, my mother also went into a decline, and Jane," Elizabeth nodded at her sister, "took on the management of the house. We both did what had to be done."

"And now?" asked the Colonel.

"We, Jane's husband and I, oversee the steward's work. I usually visit Longbourn twice a year for a fortnight to deal with any issues that arise. The steward and I correspond regularly as well."

"Mrs. Waring, I remember when we first met at Rosings Park. I recall that you expressed a desire to travel, having been only to London and Kent outside of your home in Hertfordshire. Have you travelled much since then?" asked the Colonel.

Elizabeth was not sorry for the change in subject. Her host's views on women who stepped into an area traditionally reserved for men were not readily apparent. She could not be sure whether the tinge of distaste she had noted upon reference to his sister was due to her character or her involvement in running Rosings Park or something else altogether.

"Your memory is excellent, Colonel. I have since visited a number of places. The Lakes, Cornwall, Scotland and Devon in particular – my husband was very fond of historical sites and we visited quite a few. Wiltshire, of course, is now my home and I have been able to travel to many places there; but I must admit to a desire to return to The Lakes. My memories of that trip were. . . ruined by events that followed." She forced a happier look to her face, "However, we are to take our wedding trip to Cornwall and I must admit that I have always regretted that my initial visit there was too short to to allow me to appreciate it fully."

"Do you expect that you will have sufficient time on this visit, Mrs. Waring?" inquired the countess.

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy who was struggling to suppress a smile, "I suspect, your ladyship, that it may depend on my new husband's willingness to travel beyond St. Ives."

"I am sure that there will be places of sufficient interest in the close vicinity of St. Ives to capture your interest, Elizabeth," declared her betrothed firmly. His words were greeted with grins by the gentlemen and rolling eyes by the ladies.

The earl carefully and deliberately brought the subject back to Elizabeth's estate and the following quarter hour was spent in a serious discussion of farming practices and the differences between farming in Leicestershire and Wiltshire. Finally the earl noted, "It appears that many of the estates in our county are suffering. Crop prices are down and rentals are dropping."

Elizabeth allowed she had seen a similar pattern in Wiltshire. The earl then posed a rather startling question.

"Now that the war is over land prices have fallen considerably and I have been thinking about investing and buying farms that are favorably priced. Have you considered doing likewise?"

Elizabeth cautiously considered the earl's question. She knew that if she answered him truthfully he might very well be insulted by what she had to say. She mentally shrugged. There was was nothing to it; she would not dissemble to Darcy's closest relative. Her answer might not be well-received but it would be honest and, she was convinced, correct.

"Yes, your lordship, I have considered doing so but decided against making such investments for the most part."

Elizabeth rather thought that Darcy had begun to relax; his voice was carefully neutral as he asked, "And may one inquire as to your reasoning?" She realized he was ensuring her the opportunity to explain her reasoning and was obviously confident that she had not acted capriciously.

Although she was looking at Darcy while she spoke, she knew the earl was paying careful attention to what she said.

"I am quite willing to answer, William." She smiled, "I am not at all adverse to taking advantage of another's unwise decisions or profligate lifestyle, and if I came across a particularly good opportunity to purchase productive land that would add value to my holdings, I would not hesitate to do so. However, it is my judgment that many of the fields being released for sale are unsuitable for farming. And I have better uses for the profits that Oaksley produces."

"As do I, Elizabeth. I. . ."

"Do you invest in the funds then, Mrs. Waring?" interrupted the earl.

"No, your lordship, as the returns there are dropping as well. No, I am blessed with a brother and an uncle who are engaged in very profitable businesses. I invest with them and see returns that are much superior to the usual."

Darcy grinned broadly, "Then I must avail myself of their expertise as I have been making similar investments for several years." He turned to his uncle, "As have you, I understand, Uncle."

"Indeed, I have. With sterling results, I confess."

"Then your inquiry was a test, your lordship?" asked Elizabeth.

"Indeed, Mrs. Waring. . . .and one you passed." The earl smiled for the first time that evening.

The earl's compliment surprised Elizabeth and she was not quite sure what to make of him. He was certainly very different from her expectations. She had not anticipated that he would be particularly welcoming, and she certainly did not think he would approve of her. She looked at him carefully and decided to express her confusion.

"Your lordship will, I hope, excuse my bluntness, but I confess that you are very different than I had expected."

His lordship's eyebrows rose and Elizabeth rather thought she detected a slight amusement in his demeanour.

"And what did you expect, Mrs. Waring?"

Elizabeth flushed slightly, "Forgive me, your lordship, but I have met your sister, and I. . ."

He chuckled, "You expected that I would be replete with supercilious condescension, convinced that it was my right and duty to instruct everyone as to the proper performance of everything within my purview regardless of whether I knew the first thing about any of them." His gaze was quizzical and she was no longer in doubt as to his amusement.

"Well, yes," she assented.

He leaned over and whispered, "My sister's behaviour does not reflect well on her family but I am powerless to change it. I suspect you are not unfamiliar with the problem. We, none of us, choose our relatives."

Relieved at his confession, Elizabeth nodded and it suddenly occurred to her that she had been accepted into the Fitzwilliam family for this must be how they talk amongst themselves.

The earl's approbation was quickly confirmed when he spoke again.

"Mrs. Waring, as you are to become my niece, it would please me to have you call me Uncle Harold. And I shall call you Elizabeth."

Elizabeth nodded and was about to respond when the countess interrupted, "And you must call me Aunt Eileen, Elizabeth. Welcome to the family, my dear."

Elizabeth smiled in pleasure, "I am honoured at your acceptance, your. . .Uncle Harold, Aunt Eileen."

Darcy felt like a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. That his uncle had so quickly arrived at such any easiness with Elizabeth astounded him, though, when he considered the matter further, he realized it should not have done so. She had always been comfortable in company, gifted with a natural civility and interest in her companions as to make conversation lively and interesting. His uncle had clearly been charmed.

Conversation ceased for a moment or two as everyone exchanged pleased smiles, and then the earl brought up the matter at hand.

"Elizabeth, as much as I dislike raising disagreeable subjects while dining, let us speak of the problem you are facing with the Stokes' family."

"William did mention that you have offered your support, Uncle Harold. I am very relieved."

"A few minutes ago, you mentioned families who have been hurt by the change in land prices and reduction in their incomes. The Stokes' estates are prime examples, made worse by their disinterested – I might almost say indolent – management."

"Mrs. Gardiner interjected, "My husband has been making a few discrete inquiries amongst his colleagues and associates about the Stokes' family. Your lordship mentioned that the earl suffered some reverses in fortune due to falling rentals. According to my husband, the earl has no other income, not even from the funds. He has almost certainly not invested in trade or manufactures. Moreover it seems his accounts with tradesmen are increasing."

The earl snorted. "Ah! He is being pinched then. As to investments, no, indeed he would not allow himself to invest in trade!" asserted the earl. "He quite looks down on those of us who are so 'tainted'."

There was a degree of satisfaction in his tone that Elizabeth could not understand and she made known her curiosity. The earl was not reluctant to speak on the matter and, as he did so, discussion around the table quieted to better hear him.

"I am well acquainted with the current Earl of _. Well acquainted. We attended Eton together as boys. He was a year ahead of me." He leaned back in his seat, contemplatively sipping a glass of wine. It was several prolonged moments before he continued.

"We were both in Godolphin House. I think we took each other in dislike almost from the very first."

"That would seem rather odd, Uncle. Surely you were just boys?" asked Darcy. He could not remember his uncle ever discussing his days at school.

His lordship looked at Elizabeth. "You are probably not aware of this, Elizabeth, but the Fitzwilliams are Irish – our main estate remains there. Our English title was only recently bestowed – I am the third Earl of _, which, according to many of our peers who like to disregard the fact the the Fitzwilliam family has a long and proud history, makes us parvenues amongst the nobility."

He huffed with no sign of humour. "This sense of precedence - condescension, if you will - seems imbued in most members of the Stokes family. Percival felt the full importance of his father being the seventh Earl of _ and did not fail, at his first opportunity, to impress upon me, the relative insignificance of myself and my family compared to him and his. A boy of ten can well feel such slights, I assure you." He grinned with a great deal of satisfaction. "Of course, as I was tall for my age, and he was not, I did not suffer his slights kindly and I gave him a sound drubbing. He never again spoke against me or my family to my face; but, behind my back, he did not spare himself. He was contemptible then and I doubt he has improved since. Puffy, we called him. Odious little toad. It was a sad day when his father died three years ago. As much as I disliked him, he was an improvement on his sons."

Elizabeth spoke grimly, "He taught one of his sons very well then, for a more disgusting man I have yet to meet. I had not realized he had passed on."

The earl's demeanour was bright with anticipation. "I must confess, Elizabeth, your situation will afford me no small amount of enjoyment in obstructing any endeavours by such a family."

"I am puzzled, your. . .Uncle Harold, at why you afford such significance to the Earl of _?"

"My dear, you do not suppose that this. . .Sebastian Stokes will act alone? He is of such relative insignificance in Town that no one would attend his words. No! No! He will certainly enlist his brother in the endeavour. It is he with whom we must be concerned. And, I can assure you, it is also he who will be made to bring his brother to heel!"

"Oh!" responded Elizabeth. A glance at Darcy showed him to be nodding slowly as he recognized the merit of his uncle's opinion.

"So now, my soon-to-be-niece, you must give me leave to consider how to address the matter of the Earl of _. I shall ascertain if he is Town although I have not seen him in the House lately."

At Elizabeth's quizzical look, Darcy mouthed, "House of Lords."

Their conversation was interrupted by a host of servants clearing the table and offering a dessert of such quality as to capture the attention of everyone and render the table uncommonly quiet except for the murmurings of appreciation.

Once assured that everyone had fulfilled their desire for the dessert, the countess arose to lead the women to the drawing room, allowing the men an opportunity to enjoy a cigar and port at the table. Darcy was not long in ignorance of his uncle's opinion about Elizabeth.

"You have chosen well, Nephew. She is a fine woman, intelligent, well-spoken and very attractive. You say she is not penniless?"

"She has a settlement of twenty thousand, Uncle. She is dependent upon no man for her future."

"From what she has revealed, she will do well as Mistress of Pemberley." he smirked at his nephew, "You may find her challenging you in managing the estate."

Darcy pretended to be affronted, "I will not have it so." And then he laughed, "I dare say she will have her opinions and will not hesitate to make them known."

"And you will listen," teased his cousin, "I have never seen you so besotted."

Darcy did not attempt to deny this charge but turned the conversation back to the Stokeses. "I plan to find this Sebastian Stokes and warn him off."

His uncle quickly shook his head. "No, I think not. He can be dealt with less directly. We. . ." and he gestured to include Fitzwilliam as well as Darcy, "shall visit our clubs tomorrow afternoon and speak of your engagement to Elizabeth in the warmest terms possible." He chuckled, "I daresay your aunt will want to have Elizabeth accompany her on visits to several of the more prominent ladies."

Elizabeth was not long left in doubt as to the reasons for the Countess' hasty end to the discussion of how to prevent the Stokeses from proceeding as they had threatened. For, once the ladies were comfortably settled in the drawing room, she wasted no time in focussing much of her attention on Elizabeth and subjecting her to a very intensive interrogation of a quarter hour's duration. While her primary interest was on Elizabeth's connections in Wiltshire, she also explored her future niece's preferences in literature, music and even fashions. If there were differences of opinion, which there inevitably were, intelligent and rational expositions in defence of the differences provided additional interest to the discussion for all concerned.

Finally, Lady Eileen relented and, patting the object of her questioning on the hand, said, "You must excuse me, my dear, but I had to see how you dealt with questions which to you must appear quite intrusive. I propose, you see, to have you accompany me to visit a number of the more prominent ladies in town. I now have no doubts as to your ability to deal with them properly and we shall, I believe, have little difficulty in establishing you favourably in their eyes."

"I have never been much concerned with society's good opinion, Lady Eileen."

The countess smiled and was about to speak when Mrs. Gardiner said, "Such approbation will serve you and your children well in the future, Elizabeth. And it would be best to do so now before their opinion can be influenced by other reports."

Jane and the countess both nodded and Elizabeth shrugged good-naturedly, "I do not mean to disparage your assistance, Lady Eileen. I am…"

"Aunt Eileen, Elizabeth!" the severity of the countess's voice was belied by the smile she gave Elizabeth.

"Yes, your ladyship! It shall be Aunt Eileen henceforth."

"Much better!"

"As I was about to say, I would not have you question my gratitude for your assistance and support."

"My dear girl, I have only to see the happiness on my nephew's face to be convinced of your merits. I respect his judgement a great deal, you know, and if he approves of you so strongly, then I can do no less. But. . ." and she suddenly smiled rather sardonically, "I suspect that my next suggestion will not please him greatly."

All the ladies looked at her in confusion.

"A ball!" she said.

"A ball?" echoed Elizabeth.

There was a moment of silence and then Mrs. Gardiner began to nod slowly. "An excellent idea."

"But we shall wed in little more than two weeks. Surely there cannot be enough time to plan a ball," Elizabeth protested.

The countess shook her head. "It shall be a simple affair. Perhaps not more than thirty or forty couples, but they will be amongst the leaders of society. They will all want to meet my nephew's betrothed. You may be certain of that!"

The countess suddenly clapped her hands in delight. "And perhaps we should include the Earl of _ and his brother, Mr. Sebastian Stokes on the guest list. Oh what fun that will be! My husband absolutely despises Percival Stokes, and I am certain he would more than enjoy the opportunity to upset whatever plans Puffy Stokes has in mind for you, my dear. "

"But. . .but. . .William and I thought that we should avoid making our engagement widely known. We wished to marry quietly so as to ensure that the Stokeses do not interfere." Elizabeth was quite unhappy to have all her plans overset. "These suggestions will accomplish the exact reverse and I am far from convinced of their merits."

Lady Eileen's demeanour was thoughtful. Elizabeth could see that she had suppressed an initial response, which Elizabeth suspected was to override her niece-to-be's objections, and was considering the matter further.

"Let us" the countess suggested, "seek the advice of my husband on this. I cannot speak for his opinion although I believe he will want to take the initiative." She smiled tightly at Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was under no illusion that the earl would gainsay his wife on this issue. He had shown too great a desire to have some revenge on the Earl of _ to be dissuaded from his course. She suddenly felt that any control she had exercised over her betrothal and marriage had been illusionary. Inviting the support of Darcy's noble relatives had produced more, much more, support than she could ever have anticipated. She wondered if Darcy was equally adrift.

The answer to that question was clear as soon as he entered the drawing room with the other gentlemen. She was not entirely sure how she discerned his feelings on the matter but the accuracy of her suppositions was not long in doubt. Arriving by her side, he drew her up and moved them both to a sofa somewhat removed from everyone else.

"Dare I ask," said he, "what has been planned by my aunt?"

Elizabeth's smile was commiserating. "Apparently I am to be introduced, over the next week, to a number of ladies whose good opinion will be valuable in establishing my creditability."

Darcy looked relieved, "That should not be too awful. My aunt is quite well-respected."

Elizabeth's raised an eyebrow, "Any plans we might have enjoyed to wed quietly without drawing the attention of the Stokeses will be for naught! What has your uncle decided for you?"

"We are to visit our clubs and talk about our prospective marriage and your worthiness."

Elizabeth began to laugh, "It is true then! Men gossip as much as women."

Darcy gave her an offended look which she easily recognized as feigned, "Men do not gossip. We simply ensure that relevant information is made known to our associates."

Elizabeth just shook her head.

"William, do you have a sense that we no longer control what will be happening before our marriage?"

Darcy nodded, "True, although it could be worse. We can hope that Stokes does not learn of the talk until after our wedding."

Elizabeth began to shake her head in denial. "I fear I must disabuse you of that notion for you have not been apprised of all of your aunt's plans." She paused for several moments, enjoying the look of concern that crept over Darcy's mien. "She intends, you see, to hold a ball before our wedding. She requires almost a fortnight to organize it and would hold it here, in London, on the same day we planned to wed in Wiltshire. If we accede to her. . .proposal our wedding will be delayed for several days."

"A BALL!"

Darcy's exclamation drew the attention of the others in the room who had, discretely, been allowing the betrothed couple a few minutes of privacy. The moment or two of silence that followed was quickly dispatched by a burst of laughter from Richard and Darcy's aunt and uncle.

Darcy began to shake his head in an instinctual denial. Elizabeth forestalled another outburst when she placed her hand on his arm. His lips closed and he looked slightly embarrassed.

"I apologize, Elizabeth. I had. . ."

"My reaction is not so much different than yours, William, although I suspect mine had less to do with a dislike of dancing and more with a desire to avoid such a display at this time. It seems. . .premature."

Darcy looked thoughtful, "I believe your instincts are correct in this instance, Elizabeth. Your protection, our ability to foil any undertakings by the Stokeses depends on their being unaware of our intentions. A ball in which. . ."

"My aunt even suggested inviting the Stokeses to the ball!"

"Well that will most assuredly signal our intentions. No! We must speak to my aunt and uncle to forestall any such initiatives."

Elizabeth nodded her assent and was about to rise to join the others when she was forestalled by his hand on her arm.

"I am quite reluctant, Elizabeth, to allow any impediments to our marrying as early as possible."

"As am I, William." She looked up at through her eyelashes, "In particular, I am greatly interested in those prospects around St. Ives that we might see."

"I would not suspend any pleasure of yours, madam, but I caution you not to expect to see them for several days after our arrival."

"How so, William?" she rather suspected she knew the answer but the opportunity to tease and flirt was not to be denied.

"You. . .we shall be too much engaged in our rooms to do so."

"I shall hold you to that promise, sir." She glanced across the room at the others and, seeing that none appeared to be gazing their way, leaned forward and kissed him quickly.

"Now," said she, "we must join the others."

"Teasing woman." He grumbled as she grinned at him, "in a fortnight you shall not not escape me so easily."

"I am counting on it, William!" she tossed over her shoulder as she led across the room.

"What think you of our plans, Darcy?" teased his cousin.

Darcy and Elizabeth exchanges glances and he took upon himself the office of speaking for them both.

"We are concerned that. . .well, we had thought that secrecy was best. That a marriage undertaken in private, with no public knowledge, would best serve our purpose. The Stokeses are more likely to attempt to smear Elizabeth's reputation if they believe doing so might prevent a marriage. Once she is married, however, they have is nothing to gain."

The earl looked dubious. "You would deprive me of my revenge, Nephew? Of the pleasure of delivering a set-down to that odious toad?" At Darcy's nod, he continued, "If I were convinced that he would desist upon your marriage and not disparage Elizabeth out of spite, I might agree; however, I suspect he will not. I firmly believe that we will have to confront him directly to prevent him from following through on his brother's threats, and the ball would provide us the best opportunity to dissuade him from making the attempt. Aside from everything else, Puffy will be able to see how Elizabeth is supported by the Fitzwilliam family and how well-received she is by the society that even he must respect."

The need to delay the wedding for an extra few days to allow for the ball was discussed and reluctantly agreed upon although Elizabeth made her dismay clear for, as she stated, "Neither of us wishes to delay the nuptials any more than necessary."

Lady Eileen gave a brief smirk before assuming a thoughtful air for several seconds and then nodded briskly. "A ball scheduled on Friday after next, and four days before the wedding to allow time for travel to Wiltshire and make all the necessary arrangements. It will be a small affair. Not more than thirty couples. The time allowed should be quite adequate." She directed her attention to Darcy, "You will acquire a licence?"

Darcy assented, however, his uncle interjected, "I shall approach my cousin. He will arrange the whole thing and respect our privacy." He smiled briefly, "In fact, when I inform him of the particulars of the case, he may want to conduct the marriage himself." Seeing Elizabeth's surprise, he responded, "My cousin is a Bishop and he also went to school with Puffy Stokes. He likes him no better than I."

Another exchange of glances between Elizabeth and Darcy led her to concede the point. "If we agree to the ball, may we dispense with the calls that you are planning, Aunt Eileen?"

The countess' agreement was obviously reluctant. Elizabeth thought she was altogether too interested in displaying her new niece and wondered if part of the reason might be from satisfaction at her nephew's marriage as from an interest in ensuring that she was received favourably by the _ton_. Her musings were disrupted when Lady Eileen spoke next.

"Well, if we are to hold a ball, then we must ensure that you are suitably garbed. You must have a new ball gown and it shall be at my expense. I shall make us an appointment with my modiste for tomorrow morning."

Her tone was emphatic and Elizabeth was about to voice her objections when her aunt interceded.

"That is very kind of her ladyship, Lizzy."

Jane agreed quietly and, once she had thought on the matter, Elizabeth allowed it to be so.

A short while later, after the ladies and gentlemen made their separate plans for the next day, Darcy, Elizabeth and her aunt and sister took their leave.

When Darcy called at Gracechurch Street the following evening to dine, he inquired into the success of Elizabeth's shopping excursion. Having noted her reluctance for the activity the previous night he was not surprised at her moue of distaste. Mrs. Gardiner laughed and replied for her niece.

"I dare say Lizzy did not complain above once every hour as to her displeasure, Mr. Darcy. She certainly did not allow the rest of us to enjoy the outing for as long as we might wish."

"Had I done so, we might still be there! Do not allow my aunt to mislead you, William. We acquired everything I needed and I promise you that I acted in a manner befitting the betrothed of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." Elizabeth's tone was light and teasing and Darcy could discern no serious dissatisfaction. Clearly it was something she perceived as a necessity but one to be completed as expeditiously as possible. One aspect alarmed him. After Mrs. Gardiner left the room to check on her children, he raised his concern.

"I trust that our engagement was not mentioned."

Elizabeth pursed her lips, "Of course not. No one had a clue who I was. Your aunt introduced me to those friends of hers who we encountered as a very, _very_ dear family friend. As you can imagine, based on her glowing recommendation, I was well received by her acquaintances and there is little doubt that whoever I am, I certainly enjoy the approbation of the Fitzwilliams." She huffed before continuing. "After a few short minutes, however, I was old news. You, however, were mentioned frequently, sir, by everyone we encountered, and there was no small amount of interest in your activities. One would have thought you were a member of the royal family the way everyone went on and on about you. I must say, I found it quite diverting. Tell me, is it ever thus?"

"Yes, but I expect it shall cease in the very near future."

"Ah, I finally understand why you are so anxious to marry me! You wish to avoid the devoted attention of the single ladies of the Ton and their match-making mothers."

Darcy grabbed her and pulled her into his embrace. "I have no wish to escape the entanglements of one particular lady, as you well know."

"What arts and allurements is this lady employing to so entangle you, sir?"

"You know very well. . .and cease fishing for compliments."

Conversation continued in an increasingly light-hearted fashion for several minutes until Darcy was queried as to the efforts of he and his relatives in, as Elizabeth laughingly termed it, gossiping at their clubs.

Somewhat sheepishly, Darcy admitted that he did not go with his relations. "I convinced my uncle that it would be unwise for me to be part of their efforts." At Elizabeth's confused look, he added, "My uncle's purpose today was to establish that you have the approbation of the Fitzwilliam family and their close friends and relations in order to ward off the threatened disparagement of you by the Stokeses, all the while keeping your identity secret. I knew my uncle's plan, and if I had accompanied him and Richard it would have been extremely difficult to withhold your name and I would have been compelled to answer a myriad of questions about you. We also expected that news of you shopping with my aunt would circulate widely and quickly. If I attended with my uncle. . .well it would not take a genius to connect the two events."

Elizabeth's eyebrows rose, "I wait with bated breath to learn your uncle's plan and the success of his efforts, William."

"From Richard's reports, it was not too difficult at all. They spoke to a few select gentlemen in each of the clubs they visited and my uncle let slip that he anticipated I would be marrying in the near future. When pressed he simply spoke warmly of the attractiveness of the young woman he soon hoped to call niece, of her wit, her kindness and, of course, her fortune. Because no formal announcement of the engagement had yet been made, my uncle regretfully declined to identify you."

Darcy turned to Mrs. Gardiner who had returned to the room during Darcy's explanation, "Are you acquainted with Mr. Albert Croxley? Or Lord James Wilson?"

Mrs. Gardiner replied that she knew neither gentlemen. Elizabeth just looked puzzled. Darcy laughed.

"They are, beyond any doubt, two of the worst gossips in Town."

Mrs. Gardiner chuckled, "Your uncle spoke to both?"

"Indeed, and so effectively that by the end of the afternoon, the story was circulating that I was to marry a beautiful, witty and wealthy heiress that the Earl and Countess of _ had sequestered away. Two gentlemen even went so far as to beg an introduction from my uncle."

Darcy continued before Elizabeth could interrupt, "He declined, of course, saying that since I had yet to announce the engagement, it would not be appropriate."

After they had eaten, Mr. Gardiner requested Darcy and Elizabeth to join him in his study.

"I have" he said, "two purposes for inviting you here. The first is in respect of the settlement papers. Darcy, Elizabeth prepared instructions for the settlement." He handed a document to Darcy, saying. "I suggest you review them and, if you have no objections, that you instruct your solicitor to incorporate them in drawing up the final document."

He passed the papers to Darcy who accepted them readily, inquired as to the name of Elizabeth's solicitor and expressed the hope that a draft would be complete within a week.

"My second purpose for asking to speak to you both" said Mr. Gardiner, "is to determine your reaction to an idea which occurred to me today." He paused for a moment or two. "As you know I have been making a few discrete inquiries about the Stokes family. What I have found is quite interesting. The earl appears to be in some financial difficulties. In fact, several of the people with whom I spoke were becoming rather concerned at the state of his accounts with them. The amounts he owes are sizeable."

"What about Sebastian Stokes, Uncle?" asked Elizabeth.

"No one has had dealings with him. It may be that inquiries would have to be made in Manchester where he lives."

"So the earl has some appreciable debt outstanding," mused Darcy.

"Indeed!" smiled Mr. Gardiner.

"I think I can hazard a guess at the direction of your thoughts, Mr. Gardiner."

"As can I, Uncle," stated Elizabeth. "How large are the amounts involved?"

"They total about five thousand pounds." replied Mr. Gardiner.

"And you do not believe he is able to pay what he owes?" asked Darcy.

"Not easily, from what I have been told. His situation, while not dire, does not afford him ready cash. He might have to dispose of an asset or two should he be presented with a demand to have them settled."

"It could also be rather embarrassing for him should his financial circumstances be made public," mused Darcy.

Elizabeth frowned, "I have no particular desire to take action against the Earl at this point; however, if possession of the debt could dissuade him from supporting his brother. . ."

"Exactly!" declared Mr. Gardiner and Darcy nodded, adding, "I believe the knowledge that we hold the debt and are withholding any action should be sufficient deterrence."

Elizabeth straightened her shoulders - a move Darcy had come to recognize as her signal that she had reached a decision and while he could not be certain what it was, he had his suspicions. He spoke quickly.

"You must allow me to assume this charge, Mr. Gardiner. I have more than sufficient funds to undertake the payment of such an amount and, I believe the earl would less inclined to dispute the matter should I hold them than another." And his eyes flicked to Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was not to be dissuaded and Darcy had not expected that she would be. The ensuing argument was long and, in Mr. Gardiner's opinion, rather amusing although that was not the view of either participant. Finally Mr. Gardiner interceded.

"Lizzy, I believe, you have finally encountered someone as stubborn and as capable of arguing his position as you. Darcy's points are extremely valid; I suggest you desist and allow him the privilege of assisting you on this matter."

Elizabeth, who had been perched on the dge of her chair while arguing, subsided in her chair and glanced over at Darcy who was regarding her with a small grin. "You look entirely too satisfied with yourself, William."

"I was just considering how sensible a gentleman your uncle is, Elizabeth."

"And I am not?"

"A gentleman? Certainly not, thank heavens!"

Elizabeth was about to respond further when Mr. Gardiner rose from behind his desk, "I believe we have said all that needs saying. Shall we rejoin my wife and daughter?"

"May I speak with Elizabeth here in private for a few minutes. We will not be long, I assure you."

Mr. Gardiner did not hesitate in granting permission and, after he had closed the door behind him, Darcy took Elizabeth's hands in his.

"I have not had the pleasure of your company all day. I know my aunt wished to shop with you and the importance of a gown for the ball but I have to admit I quite resented that she monopolized you so."

"And what would you have done with me had I been available, William?"

"Well" said he as he drew her onto his lap, "I would have enjoyed doing this. . . and this. . . and even this!"

"Oh!" she replied when allowed the free use of her lips, "I must resent your aunt's officious interference as well."

For the next few minutes Darcy expressed himself as warmly as a man violently in love can be expected to do. If few intelligible words were to be heard, Elizabeth was not of a mind to repine their absence. Finally she made as though to rise, an action Darcy prevented by the firm grasp he had of her waist.

"Not so quickly, madam. There is another matter I would raise with you." At her inquiring look, he continued, "I would like you to inspect the Mistress' rooms at my townhouse and order any changes you wish made. Perhaps you and your Aunt could arrive an hour or two before the dinner tomorrow to review them with my housekeeper?"

Elizabeth nodded and was thoughtful for a few moments, "That would please me but raises a related matter that I first thought we would defer until after we marry. I now believe we must discuss it now as I am to see the Mistresses chambers before our wedding.."

At his puzzled look, she laughed softly and blushed. When she spoke, she could not meet his gaze, looking instead at his hands which encircled her waist.

"Before I decide to make changes to the Mistress' rooms, I would like to inquire of your. . .wishes as to our sleeping arrangements." She gathered her courage and added, "It is my preference that we share a bed." Her next words came out in a rush. "It matters not whose bed, but I would not wish to sleep apart from you." She finally looked up at him and confessed, "I hope that I have not embarrassed you. . .that you do not consider me wanton to want it so. Please tell me of your wishes."

Darcy sat in stunned silence and his lack of a response discomfited Elizabeth. She attempted to rise and move away so she could regain her composure. Darcy would not relinquish his clasp, and held her close until he finally found the words to express his feelings.

"Elizabeth, my beautiful girl." He hugged her tightly. "I wish to have you in my bed always. Do not doubt that." He kissed her hair and then tipped her chin up to see her eyes. "Oh yes, we shall sleep together Elizabeth, but let there be no question as to where. It shall be in MY bed we sleep for I have had far too many dreams with you there."

Elizabeth relaxed, "Your bed, sir? And what of my dreams of you in my bed?"

"He growled, "I, madam, have been dreaming of you in mine for much longer. Much, much longer. The right is mine! And so shall the bed be!"

"And what shall we do with my room, William?" If her tone was teasing, the question had some significance and he answered firmly, "It shall be the nursery. For when our children are small."

"So you plan to have me with child as soon as may be then, William?"

"I plan, Elizabeth, to improve my proficiency at ensuring my wife enjoys our marriage bed by practicing diligently. Very diligently and often, I assure you. And if there are consequences, I will greet them with pleasure."

"Consequences, sir?"

"Will you not give me a daughter with your eyes, your liveliness, your kindness. . ."

"You do not want a son then? Only daughters? Strange man!"

"Minx!"

She rose to her feet and Darcy allowed her to do so unwillingly. She turned, cupped his face with her hands, brushed his lips with her own and murmured, "And I, William, would wish for sons as tall and strong, as handsome, intelligent and good as their father. I would not take it amiss if there were several of them."

"Truly, Elizabeth, I would like nothing more than for us to have children together. Whatever god approves for us, will be received gratefully."

He pulled her to him and kissed her tenderly before they were interrupted by a firm knock on the study door and Mr. Gardiner inviting them to join him in the parlour for tea.

 **Grillons Hotel, London**

The knock on the door received a prompt "Enter".

The man who did so was garbed in nondescript clothes, clean and presentable, but certainly not of a quality usually seen in the Grillons Hotel. The room's occupant rather doubted he would have been even allowed into the lobby dressed as he was if not for the possession of the card he had been given to show for just such a purpose.

"Well?" he demanded.

"Watched 'er all day, we did. When we could at least. She was off in a carriage all morning. Don't know whose. Couldna' see the crest like."

"Did she not venture out? She is supposed to be fond of walking."

"Aye, she did. . .with two largish footman, one in front and t'other behind her. And them armed too." He shook his head. "We'd no chance at her, sor. None t'all."

"Anything else?"

"A largish, tall gent called on the house. We started to approach his carriage but the driver warned us off right quick, he did. Suspicious-like."

His inquisitor grunted and was silent for a few moments before saying, "Very well. Next time follow her. I wish to know where she is going."

"We need a hackney, sor 'Tis expensive also…"

If he did not actually hold out his hand for money, the implication was clear. He would not bear the cost of hiring a hackney. Funds sufficient for that purpose were shortly provided and his company dispensed with accompanied by the instruction to report again the following evening.

Sebastian Stokes turned to his son who had been a silent witness to the exchange, "She is obviously being careful. She would not have two footmen otherwise. And armed as well."

"I assume the gentleman who called is the same as the one who interrupted our meeting with her."

His father nodded. "We must keep a watch on her. I do not like that she is taking such precautions. Your task is being made more difficult."

Nelson Stokes shrugged. "She will let her guard down at some point. And when she does. . ."


	28. Chapter 28

Chapter 27

 **Ashton House, London**

"What is so urgent that I must leave the Huntings' party so precipitously?"

His brother's tone was not encouraging. Sebastian Stokes could not begrudge him his irritation but his presence and assistance was critical. Now, several days after his confrontation with Mrs. Waring, he found he needed it more than ever. He had arranged for people to watch her movements and the findings had provided no comfort. She was always attended by two stout footmen and the gentleman who had so abruptly intruded on their last interview was frequently with her. He was no closer to learning his identity now than he had been at their first encounter. His continued attendance on her was worrying and that there appeared to be a marked degree of intimacy between Mrs. Waring and the gentleman had been reported to him. He must implement his plan and for that his brother's assistance was critical. He ignored the asperity in his brother's voice.

"I need your help."

"That much I have already surmised. My patience is not unlimited – get to the point."

"You are aware of the circumstances surrounding my brother Waring's estate?"

The earl nodded. "Left to his son in the care of the wife, I believe. Not an unusual circumstance."

"She is unfit for such responsibility. A fortune-hunter! Waring would not recognize her nature."

The earl nodded slowly. He was not unaware of the situation, nor of the fact that his brother had expectations in regard of the estate, both for himself and for his son."

"Nelson did not benefit as expected, I recall."

Sebastian Stokes growled, "Waring left her. . ." he spat the last word, "twenty thousand pounds and not a farthing for my son who would have been his heir."

"What would you have me do? It appears a hopeless case."

"The woman past is not without blemish. A sister was ruined. She, Mrs. Waring, is a woman of no consequence, no connections - her relatives are all in trade. She is a common, brash, vulgar woman."

"And so?"

"Mrs. Waring was offered marriage by Nelson – twice – and refused!"

The earl shook his head, "As I said, a hopeless case. I repeat myself – what would you have me do?"

Sebastian Stokes paused for a second or two before replying. "I intend to use the scandal of her sister's past to convince Mrs. Waring to accept Nelson's offer. To threaten her with ruining her reputation and that of her family."

He watched his brother closely. He well knew his circumstances and opinions. The earl had been disgusted to learn of Waring's marriage and little pleased at having his nephew displaced as the putative heir to Oaksley. As head of the Stokes family, he had felt a degree of responsibility for his nephews and nieces but his straitened means now afforded little opportunity to assist their futures.

"I am to assume then that you wish me to assist in spreading this. . .information about Mrs. Waring."

Sebastian Stokes nodded briskly, "Indeed! Although I would prefer to have you speak with her at the first opportunity."

The earl remained thoughtful for a minute or so before speaking, "I shall request her to call on me."

Sebastian Stokes smiled. While he had been sure of his brother's assistance, to have it so easily awarded was relieving.

His brother's next question, however, caught him by surprise.

"What shall you do with this woman after Nelson marries her?"

Sebastian mastered his surprise and gave the matter some thought, "I suppose" he offered slowly, "That, as she is not unattractive, he might wish to have a child or two from her." With more confidence he continued, "We could easily sequester her at Oaksley until he tires of her and then send her away. Perhaps Scotland?"

The earl grunted, His brother was aware that he had a few miserable small estates in Scotland, suitable only for hunting or fishing. As he considered the matter, he agreed that one of them might do well for this woman and informed his brother accordingly.

"Now that you are in Town, may Nelson, my wife and I remove from our hotel to lodge with you?"

"Certainly! Certainly! I'll have your usual rooms prepared. How long do you expect to remain in Town?"

"Surely no more than a fortnight. I cannot imagine Mrs. Waring will stand against the displeasure of an earl."

 **Hyde Park, London**

Elizabeth glanced back over her shoulder. Her footman was in place walking so as to keep no more than ten paces behind her. Ahead was his partner, keeping station a similar distance in front. She rather felt sorry for anyone attempting to harm her as both men were scanning each and every person who came within a few feet of her. Their presence was comforting to be sure, although she still found it hard to credit that the Stokeses would physically harm her. It seem such a ridiculous idea in the middle of Hyde Park. And yet, here she was, accompanied only by her maid and two protectors and she had not even the least idea of objecting to their protection. The confrontation with the Stokeses, though now several days in the past, still had the power to unsettle her if she allowed herself to dwell on it.

Which she did not. Instead she directed her thoughts more agreeably towards her betrothed and their upcoming nuptials. She wished Darcy was here now . . . no, what she actually wished was that they were married and ensconced in a bed – hers or his, it mattered not. Darcy was to have walked with her this morning but a note from his solicitor had called him away and she was not of a mind to postpone her walk. There was little enough exercise to be had in London as it was. So here she was striding through Hyde Park, her pace brisk and determined. As she thought it extremely unlikely she would meet someone she knew, she allowed her the pleasure of walking as vigorously as she could. It was therefore with considerable surprise that she heard herself hailed, although it was with a name she had not owned for almost six years.

"Miss Bennet! Miss Elizabeth Bennet!"

The voice was familiar enough although she could not immediately recognize its owner. Then she saw a gentleman accompanied by two women, approaching her from an intersecting path just ahead. Adam, the footman ahead of her, turned to face the interloper while she was sure that Henry was closing on her from behind. It took little time to recognize two of the people who were approaching her. Mr. Bingley it was, with his sister, Miss Bingley on his left arm, and she supposed, his wife on his right. Mrs. Bingley was an attractive woman of about five and twenty with an elegant figure and a pretty face. She casually signalled her protectors that she was in no danger as Mr. Bingley greeted her.

"Miss Bennet." Repeated Mr. Bingley sketching a bow, "How delightful to meet you once more."

The usual business of exchanging such information was carried out. Elizabeth informed them of her marriage and her name. The Bingleys contributed their share and Elizabeth was introduced to Amanda Bingley who appeared pleased at the introduction.

Miss Bingley remained elegant in figure and appearance, but Elizabeth was not surprised to learn that she remained unmarried. Elizabeth had known her only a short while before finding her manners offensive, and her subsequent duplicitous interference between her brother and Elizabeth's own sister exposed her character as deceitful and conniving. Indeed, Elizabeth could not help but feel more than a small degree of satisfaction that even Miss Bingley's fortune of twenty thousand pounds was insufficient to attract and attach a husband for her. That any man of reasonable character, upon coming to know Miss Bingley better, would avoid attaching himself to her unless desperate for her fortune, Elizabeth found easy to credit. Elizabeth could only suppress her amusement at the thought.

"Mrs. Waring, is your husband not accompanying you today?" asked Miss Bingley. Elizabeth thought she discerned a slight sneer in her voice.

"My husband died over a year ago, Miss Bingley, in a riding accident."

Mr. Bingley was quick to offer his condolences. Elizabeth was sure that he was inured to covering his sister's poorly concealed incivilities. Even Mrs. Bingley appeared slightly discomfited by her sister's ill-manners and inquired, "Is your stay in Town to be of some duration, Mrs. Waring?"

"No, I will be returning home in a fortnight."

"Might I ask where you now live?" asked Mr. Bingley.

Elizabeth smiled, "It is no secret, sir. My husband's estate is in Wiltshire. Near Malmesbury."

"And your family? They are all well, I hope?"

"They are indeed, Mr. Bingley. My sisters Jane and Kitty are both married and Mary is at Longbourn."

"Did you not have a fourth sister, Mrs. Waring?" probed Miss Bingley.

"Indeed." replied Elizabeth, "unfortunately we have quite lost touch with her." She turned back to Bingley, "And yourself, sir. Have you acquired an estate? I remember that to be your intent before you left Hertfordshire."

He nodded briefly, "I acquired a small property outside Bath several years ago. We spend a portion of the year there and perhaps a half year here in Town."

"And yourself, Mrs. Waring?" drawled Miss Bingley, "I quite remember you as being excessively fond of the country. Do you spend most of your time there?"

Elizabeth smiled briefly, "To my delight I have the luxury and pleasure of doing exactly that, Miss Bingley. I do travel to Town once or twice a year for short visits to see plays and other such amusements but the duties of my estate and the care of my children command my attention at Oaksley."

"Is it a large estate, Mrs. Waring?" inquired Mrs. Bingley.

Elizabeth thought the question rather impertinent but answered civilly, "Large enough, Mrs. Bingley."

"Are you staying with your relatives in . . . Cheapside, is it not, Mrs. Waring?" inquired Miss Bingley and the disdain in her voice was obvious." Mr. Bingley looked uncomfortable and cast a warning glance at his sister while Mrs. Bingley appeared slightly disconcerted at her sister's incivility.

"I am indeed, Miss Bingley. I sometimes stay with my sister, Jane, but on this occasion I chose to stay with my aunt and uncle. Are you still living with your brother, Miss Bingley?" Elizabeth was rather sure she was but the opportunity to tweak her for her unmarried status could not be ignored. Miss Bingley pursed her lips and nodded.

"Your sister lives in London then also." asked Mr. Bingley.

Elizabeth acknowledged that she did and that she lived on Sloane Street. Miss Bingley looked slightly disconcerted at this information for Sloane Street was in a prosperous neighbourhood that abutted Mayfair, and Jane's circumstances had apparently improved markedly upon her marriage. Her brother interrupted further such inquiries by reminiscing about his sojourn in Hertfordshire. Miss Bingley had been surreptitiously casting her eyes about in an effort, Elizabeth suspected, to see if acquaintances of greater consequence were nearby, hoping in equal parts to exchange Mrs. Waring's company for theirs and that they would be insensible of her presence in such unfashionable company.

With some amusement Elizabeth could see the exact moment that Miss Bingley realized Elizabeth was being attended by two footmen who had taken station in close proximity. Their uniforms were tasteful and appeared finely made. Miss Bingley's eyes widened and snapped to Elizabeth.

"You appear, Mrs. Waring, to be unusually well protected. Two footmen and a maid. I am all amazement." she said.

Elizabeth shrugged and declined to say anything more than, "As you see."

"Mrs. Waring," asked Mrs. Bingley hoping to soften her sister's incivility, "How long have you been in town?"

"Since the beginning of May, Mrs. Bingley."

"I hope you have taken the opportunity to enjoy some of the amusement that London offers."

Elizabeth was not insensible to Mrs. Bingley's civility. Her manner had been friendly, more amiable than her sister-in-law, and she rather thought she had detected a trace of discomfort at Miss Bingley's attitude of poorly concealed disdain. She could do nothing other than respond in kind to what appeared to be kindly meant overtures.

"Indeed, I have, Mrs. Bingley. I have seen several plays, attended the opera and visited innumerable exhibitions."

"But no balls? Surely you would wish to attend a ball while in town?"

"My mourning period ended only a few months past . . ." Elizabeth was slightly disappointed that she could not disclose that she would attend the Earl of _'s ball, as her presence was to be a secret, but she assured Mrs. Bingley that it was quite possible she would attend a ball before returning to Oaksley.

"It is a shame you have been in so little company. Charles," Mrs. Bingley turned to her husband, "the Torringtons will not take it amiss should we include Mrs. Waring in our party to their ball on Friday next, will they?"

Mr. Bingley assured her that his friends would not be put out at all and graciously extended an invitation to Elizabeth. Miss Bingley did not attempt to conceal her feelings on the matter; by one or two comments – she rather thought it would be a crush and that Elizabeth might feel . . . uncomfortable in such society – made it clear that her wishes were for the invitation to be refused. Fortunately for Miss Bingley, Elizabeth's thoughts on the matter paralleled hers, but she was gracious in her refusal as she could see Mrs. Bingley's sincerity.

"I appreciate your invitation, Mrs. Bingley. It is very kind of you; unfortunately, I do have a prior engagement for Friday and must decline your offer."

Not all of Mrs. Bingley's persuasion, or that of her husband, were sufficient to change Elizabeth's resolve, and they soon desisted in their efforts. However, they were not to release her to resume her walk for another five minutes and, by the time they were ready to do so, Elizabeth had begun to find Mrs. Bingley's conversation wearisome, for it was full only of the important personages that comprised their society.

Feeling that whatever store of civility she had for their company was as exhausted as Mrs. Bingley's conversation, Elizabeth smiled briefly, apologized for not being able to visit any longer due to a dinner engagement that evening and took her leave of them to continue her own walk. If she set an even brisker pace than before, it was to put as much separation between herself and the Bingleys as possible.

Mr. Bingley seemed as he ever was, amiable and ineffectual. She had not seen enough of his wife to sketch her character fully. She had not been unfriendly, rather the reverse actually, but if personages of consequence comprised the main subject of her conversation, then a small portion of it was sufficient at any time. Miss Bingley, however, was as unpleasant as before and time had not lessened the distaste Elizabeth felt for her. She could easily understand why she remained unmarried and smiled wickedly to herself; the thought that Miss Bingley would be overlooked a second time by Darcy afforded her great pleasure. She almost – only almost – wished to be there to see her complexion when she learned of his marriage.

Checking her watch, Elizabeth realized that she had best return to Gracechurch Street to ready herself for dinner at Darcy House. Tonight Darcy and she were to introduce her closest relatives to those of her betrothed. She had hoped that Catherine and her husband might have returned in time to attend but was not surprised that they had not. To her disappointment, her father had declined the invitation citing poor health and Mary would not leave him unattended. However, she was not alone in missing a sister. Darcy's letter to his would not have arrived in time for her to attend and, she had yet to even respond to the wedding invitation, although that was a matter of time and distance, not willingness. Darcy was sure she would attend if it were possible for her to do so.

 **Darcy House, London**

It had taken no small amount of planning. The menu was the least of the worries. Darcy's housekeeper had been apprised of the number of people, afforded an idea of the food preferences of several people, the earl and his wife prominent amongst them and had with several hours presented a menu that looked more than adequate given the time constraints involved. Certainly Elizabeth had no inclination to dispute the matter and the countess had, at Darcy's request, surveyed it quickly and nodded her approval.

The monumental task was where to seat everyone for it was going to be an awkward mixture. The Gardiners and the Simmonses were trades people, the Fitzwilliams were a titled family and not accustomed to consorting with such people on a familial basis. Yet they now found themselves being required to deal with them as equals, at least on this occasion. The countess, having met Mrs. Gardiner and Mrs. Simmons was confident in their ability to blend in. She had not met their respective husbands and, despite her nephew's assurances supported by Elizabeth's, she was uncomfortable with their inclusion. Nonetheless, as they were to be related by marriage, they could be neither ignored nor disdained. She must trust in the judgement and good sense of her nephew and soon-to-be niece. As she thought of Elizabeth, she could not help the feeling of delight. The wives of her two sons were decent enough women and she could find no fault with either although she derived little pleasure from their company. She missed her own daughter and Elizabeth Waring would, she thought, come to mean as much to her. Certainly, she had never seen her nephew as happy and for that alone she would treasure Elizabeth.

She waited patiently, mentally reviewing with satisfaction the seating plan they had finally agreed upon. It was imperfect but it was the best they could do. As long as her son, Viscount Evesly, behaved properly, all should be well. Her husband had agreed to speak with him firmly before they left for Darcy House. She sighed, her son should be used to this by now. An acceptance of their family's links with trade was forced on them all when her younger son, Richard, married the daughter of a banker. He had little choice; as a second son, he had to marry a woman of fortune, and Cecily, with a very handsome dowry, was a good match for him. She had seated Evesly with his wife on one side and herself, at the foot of the table – for she was to act as Hostess tonight – at the other.

Her eldest son reminded her in many ways of her husband when she first knew him, and indeed, he had remained much the same until recent years. She supposed Darcy's first marriage had begun the change, the moderation of her husband's attitudes and behaviour, and hers, as well, she forced herself to acknowledge. Judith Darcy had been nothing they wanted in a wife for Darcy. Her husband had been affronted that his nephew planned to marry without his blessing and had relented only when the alternative had been a schism in the family if he did not welcome her. She had supported the attempt to get to know Darcy's wife and was grateful she had, for Judith Darcy had been a good match for Darcy, and even her husband had come to appreciate her. And then, of course, there was Richard's wife, who the earl was fond of. But Elizabeth was a gentlewoman and in possession of a fortune. Aside from her relatives in trade - an affliction all good families seemed to suffer these day - her experience, background and intelligence would fit her admirably for the society she would join as Darcy's wife. The countess had high hopes for the future felicity of their family.

Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner were due at any time to inspect the Mistress' chambers. Mrs. Holmes, Darcy's housekeeper, had been, to the countess' amusement, quite beside herself with anticipation. The rooms had not been updated for almost twenty years. Judith Darcy had neither the time nor the inclination to tackle the task and the countess rather suspected that her disinclination to being in London had much to do with her attitude. Why improve chambers she would rather not use?

Her musings were interrupted by the entrance of Elizabeth and Mrs. Gardiner to be followed by Mrs. Holmes who, in short order, was guiding them towards the Mistress Chambers. The housekeeper's enthusiasm drew a laugh from Elizabeth.

"I am inclined to believe, Mrs. Holmes, from your eagerness for the task, that the rooms must be in very poor shape indeed."

Mrs. Holmes declaimed that such was the case, "However," she affirmed, "they had not been improved since before the Master's mother passed away. I was just a maid here then, of course, and . . ." She opened the door and showed them into a sitting room.

"This is the Mistress' private sitting room" she announced, stepped back to allow the other women to enter and then added.

"The master gave me firm directions, Mrs. Waring. Whatever you wished done with these rooms, was to be done. The cost was not to be considered."

The countess expressed her agreement strongly, "Allow him this, Elizabeth. He wishes you to be at home in his house – soon to be your house as well - and these rooms are to be uniquely yours."

"And so they shall be." replied Elizabeth.

Elizabeth went to the middle of the room and began to turn slowly, taking in as much of the interior as possible. Espying a window she strolled over to it, her mind partially engaged in considering the contents of the sitting room. She was delighted that the window gave out on to the garden at the back and spent a few moments admiring the prospect before returning to her primary object. She could see her aunt and the countess conferring, but, before joining them, chose to review the room from this particular vantage point – which she thought would benefit from an armchair and table to allow for reading. She wandered across the room to inspect several chairs and the sofa, glanced at the carpet and grimaced. She was not surprised to hear her aunt echo her thoughts, "The furnishings do not suit your taste, do they, Lizzy?"

She shook her head, "They do not, I am afraid. The materials and patterns are not to my liking at all. And the carpets!" She gave a slight shudder, "They are simply too ornate, too complicated for my taste." She turned to Mrs. Holmes, "However, the design of the furniture does not displease me." She paused to inspect the pieces once more before turning back to the housekeeper. "Do you suggest we re-upholster the furniture or must we replace it altogether? What would be best in your opinion?"

"Perhaps" said Mrs. Holmes, "we might inspect the other rooms. I suspect that your views will be the same there. Once we know what you wish to change, we can focus on how best to do it."

Elizabeth nodded her agreement. As they moved towards the next room, the countess intercepted her, "My sister-in-law, Darcy's mother, and I were very close, but we did not always agree. Her tastes were more akin to her sister's – you know Lady Catherine, I believe – than mine."

Elizabeth smiled, remembering all too well the ostentatious display of wealth and privilege that was embodied in Rosings Park. She forbore to comment. It was unnecessary. The countess could interpret her smile well enough.

The next room to be inspected was clearly her dressing room where she found the furnishings equally unsuitable. She wandered into the clothes closet and stood astonished. It was enormous and she wondered how she would ever fill it. Her aunt seemed to read her mind, murmuring, "I suspect you would send Mr. Darcy to the poor house if you attempted to buy enough gowns to fill this closet, Lizzy."

The countess must have overheard for she laughed softly, "Do not, I beg you, believe that this closet has ever been more than half-filled. Even my sister was not up to that task – and she doted on new gowns and was not behind in acquiring them."

Elizabeth just shook her head in denial. "I fear my maid will get lost in here looking for my gowns. My wardrobe is quite extensive and more than adequate to my needs but I dare say I would have to be changing gowns hourly to require a closet so large."

She pointed to a door that had not been opened, "What lies behind that door, Mrs. Holmes?"

"The water closest, madam."

Elizabeth opened the door and stepped inside. After spending less than a minute examining its contents, she returned and, smiling at Mrs. Holmes, said, "I am pleased with at least one room. A new installation, I assume?"

Mrs. Holmes nodded and moved towards the remaining unopened door in the room. Elizabeth followed; if she had any doubts as to the purpose of the room, they disappeared at the sight of the large four-poster bed. She looked about casually. In light of her discussion with Darcy, she was not concerned about making changes to this room right away. It would, she thought, be some months before she need worry about converting it to a nursery. That thought led to a contemplation of the bed and those activities required to produce a child and she could feel herself becoming slightly flush. A quick glance at her companions revealed that, except for Mrs. Holmes, their attentions were not directed at her. To divert that lady's focus she pointed at another door and inquired where it lead.

"The master's bed chamber, madam."

This information did nothing to reduce her flush and she felt a need to appear as though she were totally composed.

"I do not believe, Mrs. Holmes, that I shall retain the furniture in this room. It would, I think, be best to remove everything and start afresh." She saw her aunt and the countess nod in approval. She supposed they believed her to not want to sleep in another woman's bed, and there was some truth to that, even if it was not the motivation behind her decision. They need not know the true reason and, while Mrs. Holmes would eventually know, there was no purpose served by being explicit at the moment.

She turned to Mrs. Holmes, "Now, let us attend to improving the other rooms."

Mrs. Holmes was delighted. Her new mistress knew her own mind and was unafraid of exercising her authority. As she appeared also willing to consult when necessary, as she was doing in the improving of her rooms, Mrs. Holmes could see no reason not to be optimistic for the future.

"I took the liberty, Madam," she said, "of sending for swatches for curtains, and materials for chairs and such. Perhaps we might return to the sitting room?"

The ladies were all agreeable and Elizabeth spent the next hour or more discussing her preferences in colours and designs. The countess and Mrs. Gardiner found themselves, for the most part, consigned to being observers although they were both firm in insisting that the furnishings be totally replaced. After some argument, Elizabeth acquiesced and it was so ordered. She would have to visit a few shops before she left for Oaksley to order furniture but otherwise was content to leave matters in the hands of Mrs. Holmes. The work would begin immediately and Mrs. Holmes was convinced that it could be completed by the time the Darcys returned to London after their wedding trip. Mrs. Holmes took careful notes and after they had finished, turned to Elizabeth and said, "I am looking forward to this task, madam. I hope that you will pleased at the result."

"I am sure that I shall, Mrs. Holmes. Thank you." Smiled Elizabeth.

As they made their way downstairs to the main drawing room to welcome the other guests when they arrived, they encountered Darcy who had come looking for them.

"I had no purpose," as he responded to their greetings, "other than to try and claim my betrothed's company for a few minutes."

"You may have as much, William, as you desire."

"If you ladies will excuse us, I have something I wish to show Elizabeth in my study."

Their agreement was readily given and as they walked down the hall, Elizabeth expressed her regret that Darcy's sister would not be in attendance that evening.

"Do not despair, dearest. I received an express from Georgiana today. She will be attending the wedding and hopes to arrive several days before. She is excited that I am marrying again and says she cannot wait to meet you."

Once they arrived at the study, Elizabeth was ushered in and heard the door shut behind her. She was about to turn and face Darcy when he wrapped his arms around her under her bosom and she felt his lips caressing her neck.

"I actually have two things I wish to give you." he murmured, "The first is this," he said as he turned her around and claimed her lips, moulding her body to his and deepening his kiss until forced to break it for air.

Elizabeth was flushed and breathless, "I do not think I could withstand another such gift, William."

He smiled, leaned forward and whispered, "I shall not tempt either of us further at the moment. However, I do have something I wish you to wear tonight."

He reached into his pocket, withdrew a felt bag and from it took a pearl necklace. Stepping behind Elizabeth he undid the clasp of the simple pendant she wore and began to fasten the double strand of graduated pearls in its place.

"This belonged to my mother and was a favourite of hers.I thought that it would suit your gown and your preferences. I have noted that you tend to wear little jewelry and like simple pieces."

He stepped back to gaze at her and cleared his throat which was suddenly quite tight. "My mother's pearls suit you very well. Very well, indeed."

Elizabeth ran her fingers around the necklace. With no mirror she could only trust his judgement.

"Then I shall wear them with pride, William. Thank you."

She stepped forward and began to kiss him when a sharp knock on the door interrupted them. Elizabeth moved back as Darcy said "Enter." The footman did so and informed them that their guests were arriving and then departed, closing the door behind him. Elizabeth made as though to leave the room but was stopped by Darcy's taking hold of her arm. Turning her to face him, he tipped her chin up with his other hand.

"Before we face our guests – and I consider them _our_ guests – I would not have you be concerned about this evening. All will be well." He brushed a kiss across her lips. "All be well and in a fortnight, we shall be married. Never will time pass so slowly." And he brushed another kiss across her lips before leading her out of the room.

The evening could not be considered an unalloyed success. The disparity in station between their relations precluded such a conclusion; however, neither was it a disaster. She found the earl's daughter, Lady Janet Harrison and her husband to be equal to Colonel Fitzwilliam in manners and civility. She also enjoyed meeting the Colonel's wife. The Viscount and his wife were another matter. He sat, for the most part, in a reserved silence throughout the evening, maintaining the barest civility, responding politely to questions and comments from his family but requiring of himself only the briefest of responses to anyone else. He reminded her very much of Darcy's behaviour amongst Hertfordshire society when she first knew him. Elizabeth was unperturbed by his disfavour, for, while she detected no warmth or approbation, he treated her with civility. His wife, however, appeared to feel that being the daughter of a Marques, afforded her the privilege of disdaining anyone of lesser rank, and exercised that privilege, speaking hardly more than a dozen words all evening. As Elizabeth had not detected any great intelligence embedded in those words, she repined the shortage of them not at all. Any concerns she might have had with respect to the couple were allayed when Darcy leaned towards her and whispered, "Do not be disturbed by my cousin, the Viscount, and his wife. I see them rarely and then, only when I visit my aunt and uncle; and my uncle, I assure you is not pleased at his son's behaviour this evening or that of his wife."

There is such a difference in personalities, is there not? Your other two cousins are quite amiable and willing to please."

"Evesly has always been conscious of his position and married a woman that possessed the qualities he preferred. We have never been close for he is some ten years my senior. It is not just you; he has always looked down on me slightly. I see no reason to expect that to improve."

"I hope that we can invite your amiable cousins to visit as I wish to get to know them better.

"Darcy!"

The Earl's voice overrode everyone else.

"When might we visit Pemberley? I have not depleted your trout stream in some years and Gardiner here tells me he is an avid fisherman. We must make up a party this summer."

Elizabeth began to laugh, "Oh dear, have I married into a family of fishermen?"

Lady Janet spoke before her husband could do so, "I fear that it is a Fitzwilliam affliction. Richard and Darcy are known to be fond of fishing and my own husband," at whom she cast a teasing glance, "has been known to desert me for the activity."

Mr. Gardiner rubbed his hands together. "Well, I am certainly willing to contribute my efforts to ensuring that Pemberley's stream are not overrun with trout."

"Elizabeth?" murmured Darcy.

She nodded, and with a gleam in her eyes, she rubbed her fingers over her pearls; she was the only one to notice Darcy's blush.

"William and I expect to arrive at Pemberley around the beginning of August." she paused for a few seconds as she considered the problem, "we will need. . ."

"Demand" stated Darcy firmly which drew a few chuckles.

"We . . . demand then, a fortnight to settle in and should be ready to enjoy company by the third week of the month. We shall expect you all then. Of course," she smiled as she continued, "we would not take it amiss if your children accompanied you, else our four will feel quite forgotten. And" she ran her eyes around the table encompassing everyone, "I would hope, as we will soon all be family, that you will call me Elizabeth or Lizzy. I answer to both."

Lady Janet smiled and nodded and then looked somewhat dubious, "It is rather a lot to ask of you so soon after your marriage, Elizabeth. We would not wish to be a burden."

Elizabeth looked at her and then surveyed the room, counting the numbers and assessing the possibilities. She doubted the Viscount and his family would attend but the remainder would be a happy party. "I do not believe it will be a burden at all. If the staff at Pemberley are even half as competent as William has assured me they are, I have no doubt of our ability to welcome you all properly."

"Mrs. Reynolds will be sorely displeased if there was any question of Pemberley's welcome," stated Darcy with a smile. "I might even go so far as to say that she would – in the words of my aunt, Lady Catherine - be seriously displeased. Elizabeth and I will be delighted to have you visit."

"And we might have some additional guests." added Elizabeth, "My sister Catherine and her husband, Captain Stevens, are expected to arrive home in a month's time. As well, William's sister, Georgiana, and her husband will be arriving in Town shortly. I hope we can entice both our sisters and their families to visit with us at Pemberley."

"Captain Stevens?" inquired Richard Fitzwilliam.

"Yes, formerly of the Royal Navy. He is the son of a small landowner near Bristol and joined the navy as a young lad, eventually earning the rank of Captain. He, along with many others was put on the beach after it ended – most ships were laid up, you see; however, he did very well with prize money money and went into the shipping business. He owns three ships now and has a fourth being built."

Elizabeth allowed that information to hang in the air for a minute or two. She wished for them to understand that her brother-in-law was not a simple seaman, but a gentleman – for his rank as a naval captain assured him of that status in society - and someone to be reckoned with in his own right.

"He still sails a ship?" inquired Mrs. Harrison.

"He is loath to give up sailing. I rather suspect, from what he has said, that he finds being on land rather confining."

Mr. Gardiner chuckled, "Very closed mouthed also, he is. We did not learned the extent of his circumstances until the marriage settlements had to be prepared."

"Catherine sails with him."" Elizabeth continued, "She did not want to be parted as he is often away for months at a time; however, I suspect, from her last letter, that she plans to remain ashore for the foreseeable future."

The countess exclaimed, "Such excellent news for both our families. I am most eager to see Georgiana again for I have not spoken to her for almost a year and I am sure that you must be as eager for your sister's return."

The remainder of the evening passed pleasantly for the most part. Elizabeth was relieved to see her uncle and brother talking amiably with the earl on, much to her surprise, the subject of English history. The earl had developed an interest in the Norman conquest and found ready contributors in Mr. Gardiner and James Simmons who had proven capable of discussing and debating points of particular significance. From the tone and enthusiasm of their discussion, Elizabeth might have been concerned had she not noticed the smile that occasionally crossed the earl's features. He was clearly enjoying himself, and she could discern no sign of distress on the part of her uncle and brother.

 **Ashton House – London**

Several days later

The callers were received politely but their host would have denied them admittance if it were not for the fact that Mrs. Bingley was his wife's niece. The Nelsons and Stokes had been long acquainted and usually quite intimate. The marriage of Amanda Nelson to the son of a tradesman had been accepted by the Nelsons solely because of his wealth. It was, he thought, unfortunate that Mrs. Bingley chose to have her sister-in-law accompany her. Despite her fortune and expensive schooling, she remained a tradesman's daughter. Her only saving grace was that she was sensible enough to treat him with the deference his rank deserved. Her aspirations to marry well above her station in life were unfortunate as most of his class saw her for what she was and her fortune was not sufficient to overcome the deficiency of her station in society. As a result, she remained unwed at the ripe age of thirty and soon, would have to choose between spinsterhood and accepting a husband from her own class. It may already be too late even for the latter, for he knew the woman had never been able to attract anyone desperate enough for her fortune that they would agree to have her as a wife – not once they became better acquainted with her at any rate.

"Amanda, my dear, welcome." Lady Phillipa Stokes rising to hug her niece, "and Miss Bingley, you are welcome too."

The two ladies were introduced to the room's other occupants. The Earl of _ was, of course, known to them both; however, they had not previously been introduced to Sebastian Stokes, his wife or their son.

During the course of the conversation, the Bingleys were to learn that although Sebastian Stokes and his family resided in Manchester, his wife hailed from Wiltshire. Mrs. Bingley was surprised at this information.

"What an extraordinary coincidence! Charles and I, and Caroline as well, encountered a lady from Wiltshire while we were walking in Hyde Park just a few days ago."

She turned to Miss Bingley.

"What was the name of the woman that we met? The one that Mr. Bingley knew years ago."

"Mrs. Waring." offered Miss Bingley.

"Yes, that is it. Did she not say her husband's estate was in Wiltshire? Do you know the family, Mrs. Stokes?"

"Excuse me, Amanda. But you say the woman you encountered in Hyde Park was a Mrs. Waring?" interjected the Earl.

Mrs. Bingley nodded, surprised at the interest shown. "Yes, I believe her name is Elizabeth Waring. My husband had known her years ago. She is a widow now as her husband died a year ago in a riding accident."

"Was she alone?" asked Sebastian Stokes.

Mrs. Bingley looked at Miss Bingley, "I believe so." she replied. "We saw no one walking with her. She was rather odd; you could not say she was taking a leisurely stroll through the park. Indeed she was almost running, she walked so quickly. I dare say I would have no breath at all should I walk so briskly. It was most unbecoming, indeed. I quite liked her gown, however, it was very fashionable. And . . ."

"Actually she was not alone, now that I think about it." interrupted Miss Bingley, "It was the oddest thing. She was accompanied by two footmen and a maid. And when I inquired about it, she declined to answer."

Sebastian Stokes grunted softly and sank back into his chair.

"Can you remember what she spoke of, Amanda?" asked the Earl.

She shook her head, "I was not, I am afraid, attending the conversation at that point, Uncle. She was an acquaintance of my husband. He was quite pleased to see her."

Miss Bingley spoke quickly, pleased to be of use and eager to garner the earl's attention, "She did not say a great deal. She told us of her husband's passing and that her estate is in Wiltshire. I believe she also mentioned that she intends to return there shortly."

Her hosts were rather quiet and Miss Bingley wondered at the cause. Surely they could not be interested in Elizabeth Bennet. As the time to end the call was fast approaching, Mrs. Bingley made as though to rise and take her leave, when her aunt, who had remained silent for some time, suddenly inquired of her niece, "How long are you and Mr. Bingley to remain in Town?"

Informed by Mrs. Bingley that they planned to stay until the end of June, the countess made an unexpected offer.

"We received yesterday" said she, "an invitation to a ball hosted by the Earl of _ to be held next week. We would be pleased to have you accompany us." Her glance clearly included Miss Bingley in the invitation and that lady was pleased that her civilities appeared to have produced such a happy result.

Mrs. Bingley was pleased to accept, assuring her aunt that they had no previous engagement for that evening. The requisite pleasantries attendant on ending a call were made and within minutes the Stokeses were alone. The gentlemen removed to the study to discuss the implications of what had been revealed.

There was not much to be gleaned, and little satisfaction in learning that their prey was closely guarded even in Hyde Park. Nelson Stokes, however, was of a different opinion.

"I am to Wiltshire! She shall be returning soon – you heard the woman. Perhaps in a matter of days. I must be there and waiting."

"What can your presence there accomplish?" scoffed his uncle. "You'd best stay in Town until she leaves."

"You forget, Uncle." Said Nelson Stokes, "I spent several summers at Oaksley as a boy. I know parts of the area quite well and there are a few spots where I can get close to the house. But, I have to be there beforehand."

His father nodded as his son took his leave.

After a pause, he regarded his brother, "You sent a note inviting her to call on you?"

"Impertinent creature. Returned a note saying that she had had sufficient pleasure from the company of the Stokes' family as to not wish to enjoy anymore."

"How dare she! What impudence to disrespect you so, someone so far above her station. You must now recognize the vulgarity of the woman – it is not to be born!"

"Do not despair, Seb. You know me better than that. I will not permit such disrespect. No, I have plans for her. Before we are done, that wench will be begging to marry your son."

Percy looked to his brother and raised his glass, "To Oaksley."

"To Oaksley!"


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter 28**

Elizabeth leaned forward as she sat on the garden bench, rested her elbows on her knees and clasped her hands in front of her. She could feel the warmth of the sun beating down on her shoulders and while she knew that she should be wearing a bonnet - or a sun hat at the very least - she would not, for the sake of propriety, deny herself the pleasure of feeling so unconstrained. It was a sensuous pleasure and one enhanced by watching a man she had come to love dearly, and desire greatly, entertain his children and hers. She knew herself to be singularly blessed, for how many women could possess the good fortune to have engaged the affections of men such as Anthony Waring and Fitzwilliam Darcy? She had not thought it possible to marry another truly good man like Anthony and yet she was on the brink of doing just that. She was amazed that Darcy still loved her after all these years and she felt . . . treasured, in his company. She promised herself that he would never have cause to doubt her affections. She knew all too well how quickly a man and his love could be ripped away from her.

She wondered if Darcy knew the effect he had on her. His character was not flawless but he remained one of the finest men she had ever known. He was also unquestionably one of the handsomest men she had ever known. She hummed softly to herself as she quietly observed him. She could not say what part of him she admired more. Oddly enough, once she had learned to read his expressions, she discovered that part of him that had angered her the most when she first met him, his mouth, very endearing. Of course, she found no fault with his eyes – the ardency of his gaze had the power to render her witless. And his hands . . . she best not think of them at the moment; she had more than adequate proof of his desire.

She felt herself flush as she remembered the evening past. It had started out innocently enough. She had been on her way back to Gracechurch Street when an impulse to see her betrothed had struck. For whatever reason, fate or providence or simply horrible timing, they had had precious little time together over the past four or five days; when they were together, there was always someone else with them and she was chafing under the restrictions. She wanted - no, she must be honest with herself - she needed to be with him – no, she corrected herself again - she needed to be with him _alone_. To be held, caressed and kissed. Oh, most assuredly, to be kissed.

She had not been sure he would be home; he had spoken of some business matters that he was trying to resolve before their wedding so as to have no demands on his attention for at least a month afterwards. If he was not there, she would just continue on to Gracechurch Street; if he was, she was not sure what she, or they, would do, but returning to Gracechurch Street would not be a priority. Not for a while, at least; and not for a good while, if she could convince him to humour her.

And she had; indeed she could not have encountered a more willing subject, for he had been as desperate for her company as she for his. She had hardly been shown into the front hall when he, having heard a carriage draw up to the front of his house, appeared to inquire as to the caller. His greeting had left her in little doubt of his pleasure at her having called at Darcy House, and his subsequent actions had shown the desire she had hoped to find. Relieving his butler, Mr. Holmes, of his duties, Darcy drew her into the library and locked the door behind him. before she had a chance to say a word, she found herself suddenly being pressed rather firmly against a bookcase. However, if she had been surprised by the abruptness of his embrace, she had not been slow to respond. Finally they had separated, both breathless and flushed; his desire and her body's reaction to it were unmistakeable. He had not missed the most obvious, for his hand had fondled her breast freely and she knew that her response had encouraged his attentions.

Suddenly the shelf of the bookcase was digging into her spine and the discomfort led her to whisper, "I have a great admiration for bookcases, Mr. Darcy but . . . "

He kissed her thoroughly for almost a minute. "Elizabeth, you called me Mr. Darcy, and we are alone. I warned you before about this. You must be punished."

"Mr. Darcy, I . . . ."

He kissed her again and just as thoroughly, "You did it again! Have you not learned your lesson, Elizabeth? I shall not stop if you call me Mr. Darcy whilst we are alone."

Elizabeth laughed delightedly, "And somehow you believe that under such circumstances and with such a punishment, I will call you anything but Mr. Darcy every time we are alone? Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy," she taunted.

"Oh, Mr. Darcy!"

He reacted as she had hoped. This time when he kissed her his hand ran down her back and stopped only when it reached her bottom which now began to feel his attentions. She moved against him although she was unsure of whether it was by her own volition or his. As that mattered not at all, she simply gloried in the feeling and wished that his hand was caressing her bare flesh. She finally tore her lips from his and looking at the sofa across the room, nodded in its direction.

Darcy was not slow to heed her idea, and a few quick steps found them embracing on the sofa. She flushed even now remembering how they had explored the other's body. She had no idea how long they spent so engaged but her own desires had been so overwhelming that she finally heard herself begging him, telling him she needed him, making her want known. Unfortunately, that had the opposite effect of what she intended. He did not withdraw his hand from where he was stroking her but he suddenly slowed his ministrations and allowed her to regain her composure.

His own was in tatters, his voice was raspy and almost harsh when he whispered in her ear, "When I make you my wife, it shall be in a proper bed, with a proper amount of time available and with no fear that someone will intrude. I shall have you in my bed and I shall have you properly . . . . Mrs. Waring."

What could she do with such an insufferable man but draw his lips to her own and kiss him until she needed to breathe? His voice suddenly brought her back to the present.

"Elizabeth? You appear flushed. Is the sun too much?"

She looked up. He stood before her with her daughter in his arms, and was looking at her most worriedly.

"I am . . . fine. Just thinking."

"About?"

"Yesterday . . ."

"Ahhh."

Jane squirmed out of Darcy's arms to her mother's. She lay down, cuddled her head into Elizabeth's lap, closed her eyes and promptly fell asleep. Darcy sat down on Elizabeth's other side, his arm behind her and his hand resting on the seat.

"Now that I have you at my mercy," he said, He whispered in her ear as he nipped her earlobe.

"The children!" She hissed.

"They heed us not."

His hand, she thought to be resting on the bench, was not resting at all and indeed had begun to massage and caress her back. It was all she could do to restrain herself; if she could have purred, she would have done so. And then that hand went exploring. Tiptoeing up to her neck and then gently stroking around her ear, her chin . . . she felt his thumb run slowly across her lips. His hand tilted her head towards him and then it was his lips on hers that she felt. It was a gentle kiss though the desire was there. She could feel it - him - holding it in abeyance.

"I love you." She murmured against his lips, "and when the opportunity presents itself, you may be assured, Mr. Darcy, that I shall torment you as greatly as you are tormenting me at the moment."

He kissed her much more thoroughly in response – which had been her intent.

"I shall hold you to that promise, Elizabeth; but for now, allow me to tease you a bit more."

Whatever his intentions might have been, and she would put nothing past him at this point, they could not be realized, for their children had come to claim their attention and were not to relinquish it for the remainder of their time together that day.

The next day saw the arrival of Darcy's sister to London. Georgiana Fellowes and her husband, Henry, were obviously tired after their long journey and Darcy had been reluctant to introduce Elizabeth to them until the next day when they were refreshed and less fatigued by the stress of travel. Georgiana would not have it so and thus, Darcy brought Elizabeth to meet his sister that very day.

In truth, this meeting could not happen quickly enough for Georgiana; she was quite concerned about her brother remarrying. His announcement had shocked her greatly for there had been no indication that he was even considering a return to the married state – and to Elizabeth Bennet!

Georgiana had attempted to recall, on her journey to London, what she knew of her brother's betrothed – for the name had not been unknown to her. Of Mrs. Elizabeth Waring, she had known nothing. Of Miss Elizabeth Bennet, she knew enough to be wary on her brother's behalf. She remembered that Miss Bingley had spoken very poorly of her. Of course, Miss Bingley rarely spoke well of anyone – out of their hearing anyway – but she had been particularly disparaging about Miss Bennet. Vulgar - unattractive – scheming – artful – impertinent – wilful – unmannered – had been but a few of the adjectives laid to Miss Bennet's account. Georgiana had not been insensible to the fact that Miss Bingley's failure to secure her brother's affections had been the cause of such disapprobation and undoubtedly reflected a jealousy arising from a suspicion that Miss Bennet had done otherwise, so she was not overly worried that Miss Bingley's description was true. Indeed she could not imagine her brother becoming enamoured with a woman like that.

No, it was the injury that Miss Bennet had laid upon her brother so many years ago that was the root of her wariness about the lady. In a moment of despair, he had shared with her Miss Bennet's refusal of his offer of marriage and the manner in which that refusal had been delivered. It had taken years for him to recover from the heartache. And yet, here she was, and her brother's happiness could not be denied, nor, Georgiana had to admit, could the pleasure that Mrs. Waring was exhibiting.

In truth, she also felt disloyal to Judith Darcy who she had come to value greatly as the sister she had longed for. It had been Judith who guided her through her first season. Judith had been her confidante before Henry Fellowes proposed marriage, and had proffered advice and support through the first years of her marriage. Judith's death had shocked and dismayed her. While it was not unexpected that a woman might die in childbirth, Judith had born one child already and Georgiana had fully expected that the birth of the second would be equally successful. That it had not been, was a source of great distress: for herself, for having lost a sister she had come to love; and for her brother, for having lost a wife whom he had esteemed and loved. Nonetheless, here he was, marrying a woman he had known before he had ever met Judith, and after only having been reunited with her for a matter of weeks.

This, however, was not the time or place to voice her concerns and she resolved to make the effort to appear amiable and to learn enough of the lady, who would be her sister, to judge her fairly. In this, she had been guided by her husband to whom she had related her worries. His advice had been simple. "You must judge for yourself. Do not rely on the words of those whose motives you suspect. I have never appreciated Miss Bingley and her opinion is not one I would value. If I remember correctly, she had little that was complimentary to say of your brother's first wife as well. As far as your brother is concerned, I would suggest that you trust his judgement. Allow yourself to know the lady." And so she would.

Unfortunately, their initial meeting had not started out well.

"Georgiana, may I have the pleasure of introducing Mrs. Elizabeth Waring, my betrothed."

Elizabeth had not known what to expect. She had long since discounted the negative report of Miss Darcy received from George Wickham; however, she had not been able to replace it with another more accurate image. From Darcy's description, she had expected a rather reserved, soft-spoken, gentlewoman. The Earl and Countess could not speak highly enough of her and seriously repined that she had settled so far from them as to make frequent visits difficult. What Elizabeth observed as she entered the room was a tall, slender young woman whose countenance was pleasant and handsome. Elizabeth thought she detected signs of good humour and common sense in her features; however, at the moment of their first acquaintance, she discerned only coolness.

Georgiana's greeting was equally so. "Mrs. Waring," was all she said.

Darcy was surprised at the obvious lack of warmth from his sister and his concern did not lessen with Elizabeth's civil response which was its match in its degree of warmth.

"Mrs. Fellowes."

Georgiana appeared to realize that her initial greeting had been wanting in civility and that she had made an unfortunate first impression.

"I am pleased to have finally met you. My brother has spoken very well of you, and, as you must know, he is a most discerning gentleman."

Elizabeth's smile widen slightly, "Indeed! I am pleased to meet you as well. I have heard a great deal about you and I hope that we can get to know each other a little better in the next few days."

Over the course of the afternoon, they gradually developed a greater easiness in each other's company. It was clear that Miss Bingley's disparagement was pure jealousy – Mrs. Waring was nothing like her description. And, she had to admit, she had never seen her brother so happy, not even during his entire marriage with Judith. But she was unable to release her worries that Mrs. Waring would hurt him again. Finally, she requested a few moments to speak privately with Elizabeth. Georgiana revealed her concerns and the reasons for them and Elizabeth attempted to explain matters as they had developed from her perspective. She assured Georgiana that her feelings had begun to change long ago, and that she now loved Darcy without reservation. Georgiana could see the truth in what she said and resolved to be happy for her brother. To further this end, Georgiana and her husband were, with their children, to visit Pemberley when the Darcys returned from their wedding trip.

With Georgiana's concerns resolved, the dinner held on the occasion of her arrival had gone as well as might be expected. The company was comprised of only those closest family members who were all of a mind to be agreeable and, as Georgiana and her husband had much to learn about the events which brought Elizabeth and Darcy together, there was no shortage of subjects to be discussed. The tale could not be complete without mention of the threats issued by the Stokes family and the measures being undertaken at the initiative of the Earl and Countess of _. Henry Fellowes simply shook his head in disbelief when Elizabeth finished.

"It is incredible to me that such a sense of entitlement - such presumptuousness – can exist." He said, "Clearly your nephew-by-law had been led by his parents to expect to step in as Master of the estate. Had he spent any time learning the tasks required of a Master?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "Not to my knowledge. My husband told me that when his nephew visited as a lad he never expressed any interest in learning what was required to manage Oaksley."

Darcy and Henry Knowles exchanged glances and each shook his head. Knowles obviously spoke for both when he replied, "He is in no way fitted to be Master of your estate. It took me several years and much instruction and guidance from my father and elder brother for me to manage my estate. I wonder what would have happened if your late husband had not married?"

"I believe," said Elizabeth, "that his estate would have been left in trust for his niece's eldest son."

"Are they sensible people then?" he inquired.

Elizabeth smiled, "Quite sensible. You may judge for yourselves for I expect them to attend the wedding. I like them both a great deal and only wonder that Mary Hart is the sister of Nelson Stokes."

"We have within our own family, Lizzy, proof that siblings can be very different." said Jane quietly.

"As do we." added Darcy, "My mother and Lady Catherine could hardly be more dissimilar if they had been born to different families."

Mr. Gardiner thought the topic was beginning to depress the mood unnecessarily and mentioned the proposed wedding trip to Cornwall which caused Henry Knowles to suggest that the Darcys might wish to visit his family and offered to write them.

"For I know," said he, "that they do not plan to travel this summer, as my brother's wife will be entering her confinement shortly."

"A visit by strangers will be an imposition, I am sure." responded Elizabeth for whom the thought of visiting strangers on her wedding trip was . . . awkward.

"Nonsense! They will delighted. We do not get as many visitor as we might wish in Cornwall. I think you will appreciate Fellowes Park a great deal. It has some lovely walks and Darcy here has said that you are a great walker."

"Fellowes Park?" muttered Mr. Gardiner, "Did we not visit it on our trip to Cornwall?"

Mrs. Gardiner nodded and Elizabeth interjected, "I believe, Mr. Fellowes, that we met your parents and your brother when we toured the estate. I do remember thinking it was quite lovely."

Fellowes was delighted, "Then you shall, if you stay for a few days, be able to see a great deal more of it. I shall write my father directly. When might they expected you?"

Darcy laughed, "Allow me to consult with Elizabeth and we shall fix on a time to visit."

Elizabeth was determined that if such a visit could not be avoided, that it would be best to undertake it on their return to London and rather thought Darcy would not object to such an arrangement.

If the remainder of the evening was passed primarily in conversing about the upcoming ball and the plans that had been made for dealing with the Stokes, the mood was very convivial for such a disturbing topic. Georgiana was impressed greatly by Elizabeth's composure.

"I must admit, Elizabeth – for the ladies had agreed to such informality in private – that I am amazed that you can remain so - composed, I think is the most appropriate term - in the face of such malice. I could not be so confident, I am sure."

Darcy smiled wryly, "I remember Elizabeth saying, quite a few years ago now, that she possessed a stubbornness that could never bear to be frightened at the will of others. It is, I think, one of the more attractive aspects of her character."

Elizabeth blushed.

Darcy continued, "In fact, I can remember her also saying that her courage rises with every attempt to intimidate her. I can attest to that beyond any doubt." He smiled warmly at her.

Elizabeth's blush deepened.

Her relatives laughed and Mrs. Gardiner, to spare her niece further embarassment at such praise, began to question Georgiana on her children, a topic of interest to everyone, and one which was quickly broadened to encompass those of Darcy, Elizabeth and the Simmonses. Georgiana quickly understood, from comments by her brother and Elizabeth, that the merging of the two families had begun and that Elizabeth had already developed a pronounced affection for Darcy's children. She looked forward to being part of their new family when they met again at Pemberley in a few months. Despite such interesting and pleasant discourse, the evening eventually came to end.

 **Severn House**

None of the guests could find cause to complain. Although the ballroom could accommodate forty pairs of dancers, the guest list included less than thirty. The day had been quite warm, but the open windows and light breezes made the room comfortable. The musical assemble providing the music was excellent, the room was decorated finely and the liberal emplacement of flowers added a subtle bouquet to the air and colour to the room. The prospect was excellent. The company was also fine, if measured by status, for there were few strangers in the room, and if they each took some comfort from the knowledge that they were amongst their peers, there was no one present who could wish to take issue with it. In other words, the participants were happy with their company and with themselves. There was not a discordant note to be found.

Darcy's first glimpse of Elizabeth when she entered Severn House with her relatives had left him almost speechless. Her gown was a deep ruby colour which seemed to catch and enhance the reddish tints in her hair. It was a simple style, gathered under her bosom and falling in such a way as to allow her body to move freely and yet make one very conscious that a delectable female form was contained within. He knew naught of the dressmakers art but the end result was in every way admirable. He was concerned that her décolletage was such as to draw the eye of every man in the room – even Lord _ who was five and seventy if he was a day. The ruby pendant on its delicate gold chain fell so as to draw one's eyes to her bosom and Darcy felt himself flush slightly as he raised his eyes to hers and realized that his thoughts and focus were obvious. She simply smiled and whispered, "I said I would have my revenge, did I not?"

The ball had been underway for almost two hours. Elizabeth and Darcy were introduced by the Earl at the beginning and their engagement announced to equal amounts of wonderment and pleasure. They had circulated after their opening set, accompanied by both the Earl and Countess and Lord and Lady Fairly, who took upon themselves the office of making Elizabeth known to each of the guests. That process had passed very successfully.

Elizabeth's musings were interrupted as Darcy whispered in her ear – a gesture of familiarity that did not pass unnoticed by those around them, "The Fairlys have just gone to the hall to await the Stokeses and their guests. They should, along with a few others, be arriving about now."

"Do we know who the Stokeses asked to have included in their invitation?"

Darcy shook his head and then gestured towards his sister who was standing across the room.

"Let us join Georgiana and Henry."

As they began to wend their way slowly around the perimeter of the room, their passage was frequently interrupted by the greetings and comments of those they passed,

"It is going very well tonight, Elizabeth." offered Georgiana as Elizabeth and Darcy finally reached them. Henry Fellowes nodded in agreement. "We have heard nothing but praise."

Darcy did not bother to hide his satisfaction and was about to respond when Elizabeth's hand tightened on his arm.

The announcement, this late in the evening, caught most, though not all, of the people in the room by surprise.

"Lord Percival Stokes, Earl of _ and his wife, Lady Stokes, Countess of _!" the butler pierced the chatter in the ballroom.

And then once more,

The Honourable Sebastian Stokes and his wife, Mrs. Melanie Stokes.

Darcy followed her gaze to the ballroom's main entrance, grunted and watched for a second or two as the new party entered the room. The Fairlys remained with the Stokeses, and were, in fact, guiding them carefully through the crowd, and bringing them to the attention of those considered to be leaders of society's opinion.

Elizabeth watched as the Stokes' party moved into the room and murmured to Darcy, "Their son is not with them."

"Nelson, is it?"

"Yes. I would have expected him to be here." She huffed slightly and grimaced at Darcy's quizzical look, "For perhaps the tenth time, I am not wholly reconciled to your aunt's strategy."

Darcy shrugged, "'Tis too late to worry about it now. Lord Fairly is taking great satisfaction at his role in the affair and cannot wait until "his old friend Puffy" discovers whose nephew you are marrying." He smiled, "As my aunt was loath to deprive the Fairlys of such pleasure and argued that it would fix your reputation most favourably in the ton, I could not dissuade her." He looked across the room to the entrance where three more people had just entered and been announced.

"Well," he said "we now know who their guests are."

"Is that not a surprise. The Bingleys! I wonder at the connection." Elizabeth murmured, "And Nelson Stokes is not with them either."

Darcy shrugged. "I can only assume the connection is through Mrs. Bingley. I doubt Stokes would associate with Bingley otherwise."

Darcy moved to shield Elizabeth from the sight of the Stokeses. The confrontation would, of necessity, take place but he hoped to have the Stokes' party learn of his engagement and the esteem with which Elizabeth had been treated before forcing the matter. Turning Elizabeth so that her back was to the room in general, he faced outwards and viewed the progress of Percival Stokes and his party as they made their way through the other guests. As he watched, he murmured his observations to Elizabeth.

"Lord Stokes' countenance is extremely . . . pinched and your brother-in-law is decidedly unhappy."

Georgiana interjected, "Is the gentleman with a distinct shortage of hair your brother-in-law, Elizabeth?"

"Stout and ill-tempered as well?"

"Very much so, I think," chuckled Henry Fellowes who had been watching the progress of the Stokes' party with as much interest as Darcy. He and Georgiana had been incensed when the actions of Sebastian Stokes and his son had been imparted to them and Henry had wished to be part of the confrontation that was to take place shortly. He had been only dissuaded when assured that he and Georgiana, who were not unknown in society's first circle, would be most useful by indicating, to all they encountered, their support for Elizabeth.

"Damn!" muttered Darcy.

At Elizabeth's inquiry, he growled softly, "The crowd has hidden them."

She turned around but could see nothing for the press of bodies that intervened.

Henry Fellowes exclaimed "Stokes - your brother-in-law, Elizabeth – is moving towards us. I believe he has seen you, Darcy."

"He must have recognized you from your previous encounter, brief as it was." whispered Elizabeth.

Darcy was about to move them away when Elizabeth stayed his progress. "I will not avoid him, William." She pursed her lips, "It would look bad for us to appear to do so, would it not?"

Darcy reluctantly agreed and Henry Fellowes nodded as well and added, "The plan is to meet with them in the small drawing room, is it not? It looks as though you and Elizabeth must perform the service, Darcy."

Even the best of planning sometimes goes awry, however, and this evening was no different. Thus, it should have come as no surprise that as Elizabeth and Darcy made their way towards the Stokeses, their progress was interrupted by someone who desired Darcy's attention. The minute Darcy's head was turned away from Elizabeth, Sebastian Stokes approached and pulled her into a corner of the room where his brother awaited them. Although their attention was not unexpected, Elizabeth shivered at the suddenness of their meeting.

In a low voice, Stokes introduced Elizabeth to his brother. "Mrs. Waring, you are in the presence of the Earl of _, a man of great power and connections. He is also my brother. I expect you to listen to what he says because, I can assure you, he can and will destroy you and your relatives if you do not act appropriately."

Expecting Elizabeth to act deferentially, both men were shocked at Elizabeth's answer. "As I clearly explained in my response to your lovely invitation, sir, I am simply not interested in discussing my personal circumstances with you or anyone else so wholly unconnected to me. Now, if you will excuse me…"

Percy was not about to permit someone of Elizabeth's station treat him so. "How dare you disrespect me so, do you have any idea with whom you are speaking?"

Hearing no response, Percy continued. "I am no stranger to the particulars of your youngest sister's infamous elopement. I know it all; and unless you act appropriately, the world will soon share in my knowledge."

Before Elizabeth could answer, the Earl approached . "Percy, what is going on? Why are you importuning my new niece?"

Sebastian and Percy stared at the Earl, unable to comprehend what he had just said. After a brief pause, Percy responded, "I beg your pardon, Fitzwilliam, did you call this woman your niece?"

The Earl gently took Elizabeth's arm, and gazed fondly at her, saying, "I certainly did."

Darcy quickly came forward as well. "May I have my share of the conversation, Uncle?"

Sebastian grimaced upon recognizing Darcy but had no way to inform his brother that Darcy was the man who had been spending time with Elizabeth.

Lord Fitzwilliam was not about to deny himself the pleasure of the introduction. He turned to Percy. "I have the very great pleasure in introducing my nephew, Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley and London, and his betrothed, the lovely Mrs. Elizabeth Waring, of Oaksley in Wiltshire. Darcy, Elizabeth, be known to Percival Stokes, Earl of _. Elizabeth is such a dear girl, we are truly delighted at the prospect of her joining our family."

Not one to go down gracefully, Percy, pressed forward with his agenda. "Matlock, my friend, permit me to warn you and your nephew before it is too late. You are being snookered. This woman is a fortune-hunter of the most blatant sort. Even worse, her sister…"

Darcy took a step closer until there was but a foot separating his face from Stokes. He spoke quietly. "I advise you, Mr. Stokes, to be cautious in what you say. You have few, if any, friends, here. Mrs. Waring has imposed herself on no one. You may take my word for that, sir! Mrs. Waring and I have been awaiting your arrival . . ." He noticed a flicker of surprise cross Stokes' face, "Oh yes. You and your brother were invited for a purpose, sir. We have something to impart to you."

"And should I choose not to oblige you, sir? What then?"

"Then I shall, with considerable pleasure, speak my piece here and in such tones as will leave no one in doubt as to my opinion of your character and that of your son. I assure you, sir, neither you nor your brother can wish to have me do so." Darcy paused for a moment, "Know this, Mr. Stokes, that I would not, for a single second, regret doing so. Is that your wish, sir?"

Whether it was some inner sense that such a discussion would be best held in private or the obvious willingness of Darcy, in defiance of all strictures of propriety, to apparently castigate someone in public, the Stokeses assented to the arrangement and allowed themselves to be escorted to the private room.

Miss Bingley quickly surveyed the guests as she entered the ball room. She was not altogether unfamiliar with the first circle of society. Her brother's wife, by virtue of being a daughter of an Earl, had an entrance to such society and Miss Bingley had often accompanied her. Nonetheless, she had never before encountered so many prestigious personages at once and the pleasure she experienced suffused her countenance such that Jane, who had not met her in over eight years, hardly recognized her.

And it was Jane and her husband who, by chance alone, were happily placed to be the first to encounter the Bingleys when they entered. Jane had focussed on them as soon as they were announced and was placed advantageously to observe the widening of Miss Bingley's eyes when she recognized her and smiled slightly when those same eyes just as quickly slid off to gaze past her. She doubted not that Miss Bingley would avoid the acquaintance if it were possible. Jane herself had no reason to wish to further it; however, neither her intentions nor Miss Bingley's were proof against Mr. Bingley's recognition of Jane and his greeting was as ebullient as ever she remembered it.

"Miss Bennet . . . forgive me. Of course you are no longer Miss Bennet!"

Jane was civil and found that eight years and the attentions of a most admirable husband allowed her to greet Bingley as an indifferent acquaintance.

"Mr. Bingley." She replied, "I am now Mrs. Simmons. Allow me to introduce my husband, Mr. James Simmons."

The two gentlemen exchanged bows and Bingley undertook to introduce his own party to the Simmonses.

All the proper acknowledgements were made. James Simmons, who was quite aware of his wife's history with the gentleman, looked upon him with some amount of interest and a great deal of satisfaction. He, James Simmons, had not been so foolish as to walk away from Jane Bennet. That a supposed gentleman had done so, spoke poorly of his understanding and intelligence. He returned his attention to the conversation occurring between Mr. and Mrs. Bingley and his wife. It was, as far as he could determine, replete with the usual inanities. Miss Bingley, who hitherto had been a silent witness, suddenly chose to interject a question into the conversation.

"I am surprised, Mrs. Simmons, that you should be attending this ball."

"And why is that, Miss Bingley?" interposed James Simmons. Jane smiled slightly. Her husband was not inclined to tolerate slights to her from any source and there had been a degree of condescension in Miss Bingley's tone which could not but offend.

Miss Bingley sniffed softly, "I would not have expected to find you amongst such company as this."

"Caroline!" hissed her brother.

James Simmons smiled, "And you would be quite correct, Miss Bingley. Like you, Jane and I would, in general, have no expectations of, or particular interest in, attending such an event. But here we all are! And quite enjoying ourselves, I assure you. Marvellous, is it not?"

"Are your aunt and uncle here? The ones who live in . . . Cheapside, is it not?" asked Miss Bingley, managing to mask almost completely the disdain she felt.

"Indeed they are." responded Jane, "shall I introduce you to them? I am sure that they would be delighted to meet you."

Miss Bingley finally could not mask her shock, "I am quite surprised that the Fitzwilliams would invite _tradesmen_ to this ball."

James Simmons' smile did not reach his eyes. "I have noticed that not all peers take exception to those whose roots are in trade. You must have found it so as well, Miss Bingley. Your family, Miss Bingley, has been generally accepted, has it not?"

Miss Bingley chose not to answer and a brief uncomfortable silence lasted for a few seconds until Jane undertook to relieve it.

"I am sure that we were invited because of my sister; however, I have found the Fitzwilliam family to be quite welcoming." Jane replied with a small smile.

"Sister?" inquired Mrs. Bingley. Miss Bingley's countenance grew extremely flushed.

"Yes," replied Jane, "my sister, Mrs. Waring. I believe you met her a few days ago, did you not?"

Charles Bingley looked confused, "I do not comprehend . . . Of what are you speaking?"

Jane's gazed at him serenely, "Apparently you are unaware that this ball is in honor of Elizabeth. It is her engagement ball. The Fitzwilliams are, so to speak, welcoming her into their family."

"Who . . . Who is she to marry?" blurted Miss Bingley.

Jane smiled at Miss Bingley and the latter was in no doubt of Jane's satisfaction when she responded, "Why Mr. Darcy, of course."

"Darcy!" exclaimed Bingley. "I must congratulate him."

He glanced around obviously seeking his friend, finally seeing him across the room. Taking his leave of the Simmonses, a separation welcomed by both parties, he began to shepherd his wife and sister in that direction.

As they attempted, in company with the Stokeses, to move in the direction of the meeting room, Elizabeth and Darcy found their progress slowed by those wishing to once more extend their felicitations. More than a few were eager to have, after their wedding, the new Mrs. Darcy and her husband to dine or visit. Most were disappointed to learn that they would not be returning to London until the fall but were insistent that, when they did so, an invitation of one sort or another would be proffered. As Elizabeth remarked when they finally escaped their well-wishers, "I fear, when we return to Town in the fall, that our calendar will be extremely full. At least a dinner every night, a ball when not dining and callers every day. However will you survive, my love?"

"I shall have you to protect me, Elizabeth. And I shall sit with you at dinner and dance only with you!"

"Oh, that will never do . . . Mr. Darcy!" she glanced up at him provocatively, knowing he could not silence her as he – and she - wished.

"Minx!" he whispered close to her ear. She shivered.

Behind them Sebastian Stokes glowered. It was impossible to discern if he was more displeased with the obvious affection shared by Darcy and Elizabeth or the apparent acceptance being tendered by those who greeted Elizabeth. If Mrs. Stokes had an opinion, it was not divulged for less than a dozen words passed her lips and no one could have discerned from her mien whether she shared her husband's displeasure or not.

Darcy looked up to see a footman watching him expectantly, his hand on the door's handle, awaiting the signal to open it. Darcy shook his head briefly, turned his gaze on Elizabeth and raised his eyebrows. She took a few deep breaths – which did nothing for his composure as his attention was immediately fixed on her décolletage. She, not aware of the direction of his thoughts, nodded and took a step forward. The doorman reacted as would be expected and Darcy and Elizabeth entered the room with Darcy scrambling to refocus his thoughts. The Stokeses followed behind, their gazes flickering towards the room's other occupants.

Wasting no time, Lord Stokes began lambasting the Earl. "I fail to see what you hope to achieve by this little charade, Fitzwilliam!," he blared.

"I would have thought even you could understand something so obvious, Stokes." stated Lord Fitzwilliam, amusement clear in the tone of his voice.

"I was just informing his lordship, Darcy, of the reason for this . . . little charade, I believe he called it." He turned his attention back to the two Stokeses. "I suggest, gentlemen, that you recall the attitudes of those to whom you spoke as we made our way to this room. Mrs. Waring has met and charmed them all. She has the complete support of the Fitzwilliam and Darcy families and no small few of the leaders of the ton. Do not dispute this! It is a fact. You will find any effort to besmirch her reputation will fail. Who will be so foolish as to believe you after having met her themselves?"

"I will not be deterred by such a paltry exhibition." sneered Stokes.

"Paltry you call it? Are you daft, Puffy? You spoke to three Dukes, a Marquis, two Earls and several gentlemen of the highest ranks of society. All of them your equal or better. I repeat, are you daft?"

"You have been taken in by her! Take my advice, old friend." Lord Stokes waved his hand dismissively at Elizabeth, "She is a fortune-hunter of the most blatant sort. A commoner – not worthy of my consideration or yours. And my brother has advised me that the estate she has inherited is being most improperly managed. She will squander her son's inheritance if she is not replaced."

Sebastian Stokes, emboldened by his brother's support, sneered, "If you permit this marriage to go forward, your nephew will be marrying a common . . . trollop like her sister."

"SMACK!"

Sebastian Stokes reeled backwards from Elizabeth's open-handed slap and had barely time to register his outrage when he found himself being lifted up, shaken and face-to-face with an enraged gentleman. Elizabeth had never seen Darcy so angry. His face was white and his lips bloodless as he shook Sebastian Stokes like a mastiff might shake a lapdog to which he had taken exception.

"If it were not illegal and if you were any kind of a gentleman, I would call you out, sir. As it is, you are too disgusting to waste a bullet on or dirty a clean sword. I advise you to silence, sir, lest you feel my hand rather than Mrs. Waring's."

Darcy released Stokes, who almost collapsed from fear and shock, and turned to face Lord Stokes.

"The same goes for you, sir," and the tone of his voice as he spat out the final word left no doubt as to his disgust.

Elizabeth laid a hand on his arm, "This is not necessary, William. Truly it is not."

Darcy looked down at her, laid his own hand atop hers and pressed it firmly. "On that we must disagree, my dear. I would have no one doubt your character. No one!"

Darcy turned back to the others, "I know Mrs. Wiring's character well, sir. Very well, indeed! Mercenary? A fortune-hunter?" he shook his head. "No, it will not do. And I will not allow you to slander her so."

Before either of the Stokes could respond, Elizabeth spoke once more.

"I must also respond, sir, to the second charge of improper management of Oaksley. I know not from whom your report was gleaned but it is grossly in error. Management of the estate I undertake, however, I have hired a competent steward and I rely on the good advice of Mr. Crowley, who, with me, was named as the co-guardian of my children by my late husband."

"You discharged the previous steward for no reason other than a woman's fanciful and petty dislike of the man." blustered Sebastian Stokes.

"Petty, you call it?" exclaimed Elizabeth, "I should hope you discharge your duty to your clients in law better than to yourself. The man was a thief, sir. It was only due to his father being a respectable man, who discharged his duties as steward to Oaksley in an admirable manner, and the fact that his son's wife and children would have suffered from his actions, that I was persuaded to leniency. Mr. Crowley wanted him charged, convicted and transported, I assure you. And this is the source of your report?" She sniffed loudly, her disdain evident to them all.

Darcy's uncle finally broke a silence that, while seemingly endless, had lasted less than a minute.

"You and I, Stokes, will leave this room, arm-in-arm, accompanied by your brother, and both of you will make a circuit of the room with me, Darcy and Mrs. Waring; and you will be delighted to express your pleasure at Mrs. Waring's engagement to my nephew."

"I certainly shall not! Whyever would you expect me to capitulate to your whim in such a manner? The truth will out! And I shall help it be communicated amongst our friends. You are just attempting to cover this up to save your family's reputation. You certainly know what I think of that!" Percival Stokes blustered. His brother, who had, by this time, recaptured his composure - although making every effort to remain as close to his brother and as far from either Elizabeth and Darcy as possible - nodded his head in agreement.

Darcy's uncle looked at him and raised his eyebrows.

"Nephew?"

Darcy nodded, "I suggest, your lordship, that you reconsider that position. I have, over the past week, acquired over five thousand pounds of your debt and have left instructions with my solicitors to acquire such others as may be available. I would be within my rights to demand immediate repayment; and I might well do so, unless you comply with my uncle's . . . request."

"You would not dare." shouted Lord Stokes.

"Believe me, sir, but there is little I would not dare in defence of Mrs. Waring. Do not try me, sir. You will regret it, I assure you. Your presence in acknowledging Mrs. Waring will ensure that you will not reconsider your position in the future."

His uncle interceded, "I suggest you concede the matter, Stokes. If you are unable to meet your obligation right away as I suspect is the case, imagine the enjoyment such news will bring the Ton. Your reputation is not so sound as to weather such a disgrace." Lord Fitzwilliam had to suppress a desire to once again call Percival Stokes 'Puffy' but had realized that such an insult, at this point, might cause him to be intransigent to the point of stupidity, and he did not think highly enough of the man's intelligence to wish to assume such a risk.

Elizabeth had to turn away to hide her smile; both Stokeses turned such a violent shade of red that Elizabeth rather thought that they would have an apoplectic attack on the spot.

However, a notion that had been niggling at the back of her consciousness for some minutes suddenly made itself known and Elizabeth felt it necessary to make an inquiry.

"Where is your son, Mr. Stokes? I had thought to see him here with you."

"He has left town," said Sebastian Stokes.

"And where might he be?" demanded Darcy who was mentally kicking himself for once more overlooking that man's absence.

"I have no idea of his present location." replied Stokes.

Elizabeth was about to speak when she was interrupted by Darcy.

"I must warn you that should anything happen to Mrs. Waring, I will hold you both accountable."

Sebastian Stokes began to bluster loudly, "You cannot hold me responsible. I have no idea where my son is or what he is planning."

"Planning?" exclaimed Lord Fitzwilliam, "So you admit he is planning something?"

Sebastian Stokes glanced at his brother before muttering, "I cannot say."

"Cannot? Or will not?" demanded Darcy.

"Cannot!" blurted Sebastian Stokes.

"Nonetheless, I shall assume that he acts under your direction. I suggest you locate your son, Mr. Stokes . . . immediately."

"Gentlemen." Darcy's uncle gestured towards the door, "we have an . . . audience that awaits our performance."

As the three older gentlemen filed through the door, Elizabeth's hand on his arm held Darcy back.

"I do not . . . like the fact that Mr. Stokes will not or cannot say where his son is. Could he have gone to Oaksley? I did tell Miss Bingley that I was to return there soon and she could easily have revealed as much to him." She shook her head, "Perhaps I should have asked his father specifically if he is there."

"Stokes!" called Darcy. The Earl and his brother stopped and turned towards Darcy. "Has your son gone to Wiltshire? To Oaksley? I must have the truth, sir. It will go poorly should you lie to me now."

Sebastian Stokes nodded and left the room.


	30. Chapter 30

**Chapter 29**

 **Severn House, London**

"I do not . . . like the fact that Mr. Stokes will not or cannot say where his son is. Could he have gone to Oaksley? I did tell Miss Bingley that I was to return there soon and she could easily have revealed as much to him." Elizabeth shook her head, "Perhaps I should have asked his father specifically if he is there."

That she was still furious with Stokes was readily apparent and Darcy knew her concerns were valid. Addressing them was only sensible and, if doing so would assuage her ire, he was more than eager to oblige; and besides, delaying their return would serve two purposes: firstly, in allowing him time alone with her and secondly in affording her the opportunity to regain her self-possession.

"Stokes!" called Darcy. The Earl and his brother stopped and turned towards Darcy. "Has your son gone to Wiltshire? To Oaksley? I must have the truth, sir. It will go poorly should you lie to me now."

Sebastian Stokes nodded and left the room.

"He is waiting for me to arrive at Oaksley." muttered Elizabeth angrily after the door had closed behind Sebastian Stokes.

"So it would appear." said Darcy, his voice terse. "Although I cannot comprehend what he would hope to achieve. He must know that you will be protected."

"He may well be desperate."

Darcy agreed, "Then we will simply have to ensure that you are never left unprotected."

Then it appeared to her that his thoughts were directed elsewhere, his gaze fixed on a wall fixture she was sure he saw not at all and a scowl that would curdled milk. She allowed his abstraction to persist for almost a minute before reclaiming his attention by a shake of his arm and a quiet admonishment.

"William! William!"

He returned his focus to her and she could see him physically shake himself as if to discard whatever had bothered him.

"William, what were your thoughts?"

He looked at her thoughtfully before replying, "How fixed is your desire to be wed in Wiltshire?"

Elizabeth was surprised at the question but it was the work of only a few seconds to recognize where his thoughts were directed and consideration of his concerns rendered her pensive for a few moments. Darcy could see a variety of expressions - anger predominantly - cross her features but he could not discern her thoughts. Finally, she vouchsafed them.

"I will not hide from that. . .that toad!" She snapped.

"And I would not think you would do so." His voice was carefully mild. "May I explain my thinking before you dismember me?"

Elizabeth glared at him briefly before shrugging and nodding.

"I ask again. How fixed is your desire to be wed at Oaksley?"

"I wished to marry there because that has been my home for more nearly six years and I have friends whom I wished to attend the wedding and to whom I wished very much to introduce you."

"A natural desire on the part of any bride, I am sure."

"Perhaps, but, I believe that you now consider it to be, in this instance, a foolish and possibly incautious wish. To put myself, and mayhap others, needlessly in peril is not sensible." She shrugged a little stiffly, "It would, I suspect, be safer and easier to wed here in London, would it not?" Her reluctance to admit as much was not feigned.

Darcy was surprised at how quickly she had arrived at his own conclusion. "It would; however . . ." He considered the matter for a few seconds, "the common licence was acquired to wed in Malmesbury but would serve here as well; however, if we marry here at Severn House, we will require a special licence. If I were to consult my feelings only, we would marry here but I will bow to your preference on this matter. What is your pleasure, Elizabeth?"

"I would, I believe, prefer to marry here. Perhaps this very ballroom would serve our purpose."

He laughed. "I am glad we are of one mind on this. My cousin the Bishop should, I suspect, be quite amenable to acquiring one from his archbishop tomorrow which would allow us to wed on Monday." He glanced down at her. "Would that satisfy my lady's preference?"

Elizabeth snaked her hand behind his head, drew his head down and whispered "Yes" before pressing her lips to his. They remained delightfully engaged until Darcy withdrew. Leaning his forehead against hers, he whispered, "As pleasurable as this is, I believe we should rejoin the company. I suspect if we remain absent for much longer, my aunt will come searching us out."

As they moved towards the door, Darcy's steps slowed and finally stopped.

"I had" he said, "a sudden thought. As we had already planned to travel to Longbourn and then to Oaksley when we leave Pemberley, I see no reason why we should not extend our stay at Oaksley, for an extra fortnight perhaps. This would allow you to acquaint your neighbours with our marriage and make amends for preventing them from attending. Would that suit?"

Elizabeth paused briefly and then nodded her agreement. Her quick smile told him she was pleased at this accommodation and they resumed their progress. As it was they had only just opened the door when Georgiana and her husband approached them.

"I was about to inquire as to when you might join us, Brother." smirked Georgiana.

Elizabeth smiled serenely at her, "You must not censure your brother, Georgiana. The fault is mine."

"We have news that we must impart to our relatives." declared Darcy, his eyes already searching the room.

"News?" Inquired Georgiana.

"Indeed." Replied Elizabeth, "I have been persuaded, most reluctantly I grant you, that our trip to Oaksley is ill-advised and we now plan to marry on Monday, if possible, and here in London."

Henry Fellowes looked at Darcy who could see that an explanation for the change would be required. "Later" he murmured and Fellowes nodded in acquiescence. Before they could discuss the matter further, however, their privacy was intruded upon.

"Mr. Darcy!"

Darcy could feel Elizabeth stiffen beside him and her grip tightened on his arm. She, as well as he, recognized the voice. It was as well-modulated as one might expect from one who had been educated at one of London's foremost seminaries, but its artificiality had always grated on him and the lady's insincerity had never recommended her to him. He had seen enough of Elizabeth's dealings with the woman in question, on the few times they had been in company together, to know that she felt much the same.

"Miss Bingley." He replied.

"Darcy! I understand we are to congratulate you! And Mrs. Waring as well!" cried Bingley. "I cannot express how pleased I am at this news."

Mrs. Bingley smiled and shook her head at Elizabeth, "You were very sly, Mrs. Waring. We had no intimation that you were engaged."

"Do forgive me but, as the engagement had yet to be announced to all our relatives, it would have been quite improper for me to speak of it the day we met in the park. Family and close friends only have been made privy to the knowledge."

"When shall you be married?" asked Miss Bingley, attempting to disguise her interest.

Elizabeth glanced at Darcy who nodded slightly. She responded with carefully chosen words, "Mr. Darcy and I do not wish to delay matters as we both have estates that require our attention. Our plan was to wed from Wiltshire before Wednesday next."

"So soon!" gasped Miss Bingley.

"There is no particular reason to delay, Miss Bingley." stated Darcy firmly.

Miss Bingley was apparently not yet ready to concede the matter.

"I must congratulate you, Miss Eliza. I knew Mr. Darcy admired you when we were in Hertfordshire, but I could never have imagined that he would. . .marry someone so far removed from his sphere. And after all these years! I must congratulate you for such a success. It will surely be greeted with considerable amazement by the ton."

Elizabeth concealed her amusement; Caroline Bingley had not improved with time.

"Miss Bingley, perhaps because of your circumstances you have not appreciated that Mr. Darcy is a gentleman and I am a gentleman's daughter. As well, we are both landowners in our own right. We, Miss Bingley, are of equal station; and, while these matters are not of great consequence to me, I should apprise you that my circumstances have improved greatly since we last knew each other in Hertfordshire."

"I married a wonderful gentleman, Mr. Waring, some years ago. In addition to being a wonderful husband and father, Mr. Waring possessed a large and profitable estate, an estate which our son has inherited and which I oversee on his behalf. Mr. Waring also provided handsomely for my future security and that of our daughter. Our marriage also endowed me with connections of no little consequence. In particular, Mr. Waring's elder sister is married to the Honourable Sebastian Stokes, brother to the current Lord Stokes, Earl of _. I would not wish you to continue under the misapprehension that my circumstances are, in any fashion, a degradation for the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families. My first husband was a wonderful man, Miss Bingley, and I am about to marry another. "

She took Miss Bingley's limp hand and patted it sympathetically, "I do so hope that I will soon be able to offer my congratulations on the occasion of your own marriage. I believe you have made the acquaintance of my nephew, Mr. Nelson Stokes. I understand he is in want of a wife possessed of a suitable fortune. His circumstances are such as to make him a most eligible suitor - perhaps you should consider him seriously."

For a brief moment it appeared that Caroline Bingley might expire from mortification, but she collected herself admirably, pretended to not have heard Elizabeth's last words and turned the subject by inquiring about the wedding ceremony.

"We have not, to this point, spoken of it to anyone but it Is to be a small affair." affirmed Elizabeth who had no intention of extending an invitation to the Bingleys to attend her wedding. "I believe it shall be restricted to family and very close friends only."

"I would have expected you would wish to marry from London, Mrs. Waring. Surely a wedding appropriate to marrying into a family of such consequence must be a grand affair and cannot be arranged on such short notice?" Miss Bingley struggled unsuccessfully to suppress the note of censure in her voice. Darcy, however, was not insensible to it.

"I assure you, Miss Bingley, that Mrs. Waring and I are in complete agreement as to the type of ceremony to be held and our families have been most gracious in acceding to our preferences. A large ostentatious ceremony as is so often held would suit neither of us at all."

Miss Bingley subsided.

Left unspoken was the clear intimation that the Bingleys were not included in the privileged group. Darcy, who had been surreptitiously casting his gaze about the room in hopes of locating his aunt and uncle, was finally successful. He turned back to Bingley.

"You must excuse us. I have a matter of some importance to discuss with my uncle."

He bowed to the Bingleys and, with Elizabeth firmly attached to his arm, moved in the direction of Lord Fitzwilliam. Georgiana and her husband followed quietly in their wake. He could hear Georgiana murmuring to her husband about the Bingleys and, knowing that her opinion of them mirrored his own, trusted that Henry Fellowes would be amused by the cool treatment afforded them by Darcy and Elizabeth. Behind them he could hear Mrs. Bingley whispering vehemently to her sister. He had only a brief glimps of the lady's countenance during their conversation with the Bingleys and she had registered both shock and dismay at her sister's words. Darcy suspected that Miss Bingley would have further cause to regret her outburst and could only be relieved that his acquaintance with Charles Bingley was no longer such as to require him to tolerate Miss Bingley's poor behaviour.

Once they were safely removed from being overheard, he murmured, "It was a wise move to intimate that the wedding will be held in Wiltshire. As they are connected to the Stokes, I would rather not risk having our change in plans made known to them."

"My thoughts exactly."

Darcy continued, "However, although we might wish our wedding to be a private affair, I suspect that my aunt and uncle will, now that it is to be held in London, invite a few of their closest friends."

Elizabeth laughed, "I care not! As long as you are waiting for me at the altar, it matters not who else shall be there. They may invite whomever they wish. I simply do not wish for Caroline Bingley to attend our wedding. . .Will the larger number of people be a concern, for you William?"

Elizabeth smiled up at him and he gave her a mock frown, "Ah, you have learned that I am uncomfortable with crowds. I shall have to rely on you to ease my feelings."

Georgiana snickered behind them.

Darcy huffed good-naturedly. "Am I to have a wife who sports with me?"

Henry Fellowes laughed, "I believe that every wife feels it to be an obligation to ensure that her husband does not get overly prideful."

"I can see, Georgiana," replied Elizabeth with a slight smirk, "that your husband is under good regulation."

Further teasing was prevented by their joining Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam who were quickly apprised of the change in wedding plans and the reasons for it. The Earl immediately went to find his cousin, the Bishop, to arrange for the special licence and to officiate at the wedding, while the Countess wished to discuss the plans with Elizabeth and Darcy. Unfortunately for her, Darcy was not inclined to spend the remainder of the evening discussing that subject and he quickly claimed Elizabeth's hand for the next set, a request to which she, having as little interest in the particulars of the wedding plans as he, was quick to accede. Lady Fitzwilliam's displeasure was allayed only by sighting Mrs. Gardiner and enlisting that lady in the necessary planning.

Some minutes later as they executed the movements of the dance, Darcy murmured to Elizabeth, "I can take an extra measure of joy that we shall wed a day early."

She glanced at him gravely but he thought he had discovered a small upturn of her lips, "And why should that be, sir?"

Darcy looked around to ensure that no one was close enough to overhear.

"I shall be spared a day of torture, madam."

That slight upturn in her lips grew.

"I am of the opinion, sir, that it is not the loss of a day of torture that is foremost in your thoughts."

Darcy did not respond until their movements brought him beside her and then he leaned even closer and she could feel the warmth of his breath as he whispered, "Indeed it is not. That you shall share my bed a day sooner commands me."

She whispered in return, "Command? Are you of a dictatorial nature in the bed chamber, sir?"

"Nay! I believe I shall be at your command."

Elizabeth smiled.

The pattern of the dance then separated them for a brief time and when they came together again neither felt the need to converse. The brief touches of their hands, exchanges of glances, and the brush of a body against the other were sufficient to render words unnecessary. They continued in the movements of the dance, enjoying a companionable silence for several minutes when Elizabeth began to chuckle. Darcy intercepted a teasing glance from her and questioned its meaning.

"I have been considering our proposed trip to Oaksley and have had a most happy thought."

Darcy was instantly suspicious at the teasing tone in her voice and the humour in her eyes.

"Indeed?"

"Yes! I have stumbled, if you will – not perhaps the most opportune word in this instance – upon the most intriguing way to celebrate our wedding with my friends there. A ball!"

Darcy was becoming equally more intrigued and nervous. "A ball?"

"Of course!"

Darcy was silent for several minutes. He had not thought Oaksley large enough to host a ball of any significance. Elizabeth had never mentioned having hosted one during her years there.

"Is Oaksley large enough? Does it have a ballroom?"

Elizabeth smiled and answered cheerfully, "It does not but Malmesbury has a most excellent set of Assembly rooms."

"Ah."

She laughed at his glum tone. "And my husband shall dance every set. I shall insist on it!"

Darcy smiled wryly, "As long as I may dance the first, supper and last sets with my wife, I shall be content to do her bidding."

"I am sure your wife will be most willing to oblige you, sir, particularly as she has it on good authority that the last set is to be a waltz and you know that only married or engaged couples may dance a waltz."

"And how, madam, is her poor husband to learn the waltz?"

"I am sure, Mr. Darcy, that at Pemberley we shall find a sufficiency of music and partners for our needs."

"Then I shall look forward to it, madam. Indeed, I shall!"

So absorbed in each other were they that the departure of the Stokes party, and shortly thereafter the Bingleys, went unnoticed. As Henry Fellowes was to relate towards the end of the evening, "Lord Stokes looked resigned to the matter and appeared to put on as good a face as possible; however, your brother, Mrs. Waring, looked as though he were sucking on a lemon."

Elizabeth smiled wryly, "I can only hope that I have no occasion to encounter that gentleman in the future. As he is family – Uncle to my son – I suppose I cannot escape the acquaintance but . . ."

"It is not one we need encourage!" Interrupted Darcy and Elizabeth readily assented.

"They shall never be invited to Oaksley. . ."

"Or Pemberley!"

"Agreed but should we encounter them, we will be civil. As well, we have the Harts to consider and I would not want to create a situation which sees us estranged from them."

The carriage carrying the Stokes family back to Ashton House was silent. Fortunately, the Bingleys had come in their own equipage thus allowing Sebastian Stokes the opportunity to relieve his pique.

"It is intolerable that we are prevented from dealing with that . . . woman as she deserves. I am inclined . . ."

"Do not be a fool, Seb!" Interrupted his brother, "I shall certainly not support you on any such endeavour - not after our performance this evening."

"I cannot believe you bowed to his demands."

Percival Stokes considered his brother. "Did you not hear what was said, Seb? Or do you not understand the implications."

"The Fitzwilliams are influential, to be sure, but their rank is no greater than your own. Who are they to deliver such an ultimatum?"

Percival Stokes shook his head in disbelief. "You have lived too much in Manchester, I fear. There my name and title must still be of some considerable importance. You have become too familiar with the prestige attached to it there to understand that elsewhere it may not be of equal significance."

Sebastian Stokes looked at his brother incredulously.

Percival Stokes grunted, "You were beside me, were you not, as we were led from one of the Fitzwilliams' guests to another. If you did not recognize them, I assure that I was not so blind. While I spend as little time in London as possible, their names are quite familiar to me and the Fitzwilliams stand clearly – very, very clearly – in their good opinion. Only a fool – which I have no intention of portraying – would attempt to gainsay them or the Fitzwilliams."

"But! . . . But!"

"And" continued Lord Stokes, "even should I wish to do so, I dare not."

He collected the amazed looks from the others in the carriage and scowled as he said, "I can ill-afford to offend the Darcy family."

"They have no title!" Gasped Sebastian Stokes.

"Indeed they do not." Replied his brother, "But they do possess five thousand pounds of my debts which I am unable to discharge at this moment. And I do not doubt their willingness to acquire more should I prove recalcitrant."

Sebastian Stokes was speechless for several moments, "But surely a bank would provide the necessary . . ."

He stopped speaking as he observed his brother's slow shake of his head. "The banks will not?"

"I have applied to them already with no success. The revenues of the estate have declined and my son's gambling has placed a further burden on my revenues. As it stands I cannot raise any further mortgages and can acquire funds only by selling a portion of the estate or, more likely, Ashton House itself."

The other occupants in the carriage were shocked into silence and even the Countess, who had had some intimation that their circumstances were strained, could not mask her dismay.

The Earl turned to face his brother, "So, it is not within my power to assist you further in this matter and, I must emphasize that should you attempt to do so on your own, I will be forced to publicly disavow your words and actions. You do not want that, I am sure. A severance of our connection would serve neither of us well."

Sebastian Stokes slumped back into the seat. He glanced at his wife who pursed her lips and gave a slight shake of her head. It was clear that she was of his brother's opinion. He sighed.

The Earl was not finished, "Can you recall your son?"

Mrs. Stokes gasped and Sebastian paled.

"No, I cannot. Not unless, at least, I travel there immediately to contact him."

"You had best do so. It will not serve us to have him attempt a compromise now. Things have progressed too far and the potential for harm to my family is too great to accept such a risk. You must depart at first light tomorrow and hope to find and stop him. I shall not be accountable for my actions should you fail."

Sebastian looked at his brother and recognized from his voice and manner that he was obdurate on the matter. He could ill-afford to act against his brother's wishes. He nodded and the remainder of the ride was conducted in complete silence.

Sebastian Stokes departed for Wiltshire at first light the next morning, arriving in Malmesbury at noon the following day.


	31. Chapter 31

**Chapter 30**

 **Darcy House, London**

Monday morning dawned. It was a rustling sound that woke him and his mind was instantly aware that his valet was, as quietly as was possible, beginning his preparations for the day to come. The scent of coffee greeted him and was welcomed accordingly. The past evening had been surprisingly free of the anticipatory nervousness he had thought might occur. He had, of course, been married before; but he had not entered that marriage as joyously and eagerly. His cousin Richard and his wife, and Georgiana and her husband, had provided the company during the evening. Elizabeth had been part of the group for a short while but had removed herself to her aunt's home for, as she had stated the matter, "Our rush to be wed has left me a little in arrears in regards of my packing." And so, she had left earlier than he wished. His relations would not, however, allow her departure to dampen their spirits, or his, and the evening was replete with remembrances of the past supported and enhanced by a sufficiency of spirits – port and brandy for the men, and sherry for the ladies. While it was late when he finally succumbed to sleep, his mood was happy and his dreams - what he could remember of them – were equally so.

"Thank you, James. This coffee is greatly appreciated." His valet nodded in acceptance and replied, "I have ordered a breakfast tray and water is being heated for your bath."

Darcy checked the time. It was just past the hour of seven. In two hours he would stand with Elizabeth to be wed. A half hour later she would be Mrs. Darcy. He could not help but smile at the thought and his anticipation of the event did not allow him to sit quietly; and, filling his cup with coffee, he paced about the room finally stopping before the window to gaze into the garden below. He turned to look around his room. _The next time I sleep here_ , he thought, _Elizabeth will be with me - in my bed_.

A knock on the door signalled the arrival of a maid with his breakfast and Darcy realized that, despite not having eaten since the early part of the past evening, he was not particularly hungry. He must eat he knew, for it would not do for the bridegroom's stomach to grumble during the wedding service.

He was not allowed to linger over the meal, even should he have wished to do so. His valet was already waiting, his impatience barely hidden, to shave him. He sometimes wondered who was the master and who the servant but in this instance he was not prepared to gainsay the man and he settled himself into his chair, giving himself over to his valet's care. There was a sort of soothing comfort to the ritual of getting ready for the day's activities and, at the moment, his nerves, his anticipation, would be served well by such regularity. His anxiousness was, he knew, born of anticipation. The realization of a wish, a dream, long harboured in the recesses of his soul and only recently had he been allowed to gaze upon it openly.

When he was shaved, he removed his robe and gingerly lowered himself into the hot water. If there was one aspect of his morning ritual with which he could be satisfied, it was the size of the tub used for his bath. He had acquired a new tub a year ago. It was sufficiently oversized as to accommodate him fully and lately he had, on more than one occasion, considered the possibilities of sharing it with Elizabeth. He forced himself to put such thoughts away. He could not afford to be so distracted now and the presence of his valet would not allow him to savour such thoughts freely. He worked up a fine lather of soap on his arms, chest, and, legs while his valet shampooed his hair. When he had completed his washing, he stood up while buckets of warm water were sluiced over him to wash away the soap and shampoo. When he was completely rinsed, he stepped out into the welcome embrace of the thick, warm robe that was held out for him.

After he was clean, came the details of dressing, and he was pleased at the efforts of his valet who had clearly spoken with Elizabeth's maid before selecting his waistcoat, the colour of which was clearly intended to complement his bride's gown. His apparel had never been a primary concern for Darcy. As long as the fabric was of good quality, the garments well designed and fitted, he was happy with any colour - as long as it was black. His waistcoats were usually grey but today it appeared that he was to wear one of a blue and silver. _A veritable peacock, a dandy,_ he thought with a smile. He wished to present himself as best as he could. It would, in its fashion, be a tribute to Elizabeth, for he wished for her approval.

When he was ready, the mirror was positioned so he could examine his appearance from all angles, and Darcy nodded his satisfaction. His valet checked his watch.

"Your coach should be here shortly to take you to Severn House, sir," he said, "and Mr. Fellowes sent word he will be waiting for you downstairs."

"Thank you, James. That should be all, then."

"Most everything is packed, sir, and I'll pack the remainder during the wedding breakfast. Mrs. Waring's maid and I shall depart as soon as that is complete. I expect we will arrive an hour before you."

Darcy nodded, suddenly cheerful. Their destination would be a surprise to Elizabeth and one, he hoped, she would enjoy. Another knock sounded on his door and before James could even open it, Fellowes breezed into the room.

"Come Darcy, your carriage is ready and I suspect your bride awaits."

Darcy glanced at his watch. More than a half hour till the ceremony began - more than sufficient time to reach Severn House. Nonetheless, he would prefer to be early rather than late and with a last nod at his valet, led Fellowes out of the room and down to his carriage. He was to wed Elizabeth today and nothing was more important.

Georgiana and his two obviously impatient daughters were waiting for him at the foot of the stairs. It was the work of minutes to bustle them into the carriage. He was sure that Ann-Marie had chattered to him during the subsequent ride, and that he answered her; however, the rather bemused expression on his sister's countenance suggested that his responses were not all they should be. But, as no one seemed particularly disturbed by such evidence of his abstraction, he chose not to worry about it.

 **Gracechurch Street, London**

"My stomach feels . . . odd," said Elizabeth, as she sat in front of her mirror, watching her maid, Patience, skilfully comb and pin her hair into an elaborate and fashionable style. Jane and her Aunt Gardiner sat with her.

"Nervous?" smiled Mrs. Gardiner.

Jane laughed softly. "How can that be?" She asked. "It is not as though the event is unknown or unexpected."

Elizabeth shook her head; she had not the words to explain her feelings and contented herself with simply saying, "I have never married Mr. Darcy before."

Patience stepped back from Elizabeth to give her efforts a considering look from all angles before turning to Elizabeth.

"It looks wonderful, Patience. Thank you."

"I agree," said Mrs. Gardiner. "I do not think I have ever seen you look more beautiful, Elizabeth, and I hope Mr. Darcy appreciates what a lucky man he is."

"From the way he looks at her, you could believe nothing else, Aunt," said Jane lightly. "I dare say he can see no one else when she is in a room."

"Good!" said Mrs. Gardiner, ignoring the sudden flush of Elizabeth's cheeks at such fulsome praise. "Now, is everything packed?"

"Yes, ma'am," replied Patience. "I saw to everything earlier, even the new nightgowns you brought last night. James, Mr. Darcy's man, is to bring the carriage here to load our trunks and we shall be off."

Elizabeth had seen the three elegant and enticing nightgowns that her aunt had brought. She had marvelled at the fine material and workmanship, but it was the sheerness of the material and the erotic cut of the gowns that made them unique in her experience. The style and cut! From the waist to the hem, the nightgown was comprised of a half dozen overlapping panels so that her bare leg and hip were intermittently revealed as she moved about the room. She had modelled one for Jane the night before, and her sister had blushed furiously when Elizabeth had suggested that she acquire several for herself. For, as she said, "Mr. Simmons can surely afford the increase in the size of his family that would most likely ensue."

Jane finally gathered her composure. "I can assure you, Lizzy, that James requires no such inducements."

Elizabeth laughed heartily and simply shook her head. Her sister's figure had matured for a certainty but she remained one of the most beautiful women of her acquaintance and could possibly be more beautiful at the age of thirty than she was at twenty.

"Good! Then let us be about it, since your uncle's carriage is at the door waiting to take you to the chapel." said Mrs. Gardiner.

 **Severn House, London**

The glorious early summer morning endowed the ceremony with a surfeit of sunbeams lancing through the windows of the Severn House ballroom. Darcy had been quite unsurprised when he entered the room to find it occupied by some forty persons apart from the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families. His aunt, Lady Fitzwilliam, would not overlook an opportunity to fix, in the approval of the foremost members of the ton, the support of her family for her nephew's match. Most of those present had met Elizabeth at the Fitzwilliam ball; their approval was given then and cemented today by their attendance.

Bishop Edgar Fitzwilliam turned to Darcy continuing the ceremony he knew by heart.

"Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded wife, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou love her, comfort her, honour, and keep her in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?"

Darcy's voice was firm as he replied in a clear, carrying voice, "I will."

The Bishop remembered christening Fitzwilliam Darcy so many years ago when he was a young, inexperienced vicar of the Kympton parish, and he could not help wondering where all those years had gone. Now he gave himself a mental shake of his head to focus his thoughts and turned to Elizabeth.

"Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded husband, to live together after God's ordinance in the holy estate of matrimony? Wilt thou obey him, and serve him, love, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all others, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?"

Her light alto was no less carrying, as she replied, "I will."

Closely about them was gathered their family. Ann-Marie had guided her sisters in advance of her new mother and the three girls looked delightful in their new pink frocks. David Waring had walked beside his mother as she was led down the aisle by her father and received a brief approving nod from Darcy when her hand was given into his care. The boy's efforts to remain stoic faltered as he grinned back at Darcy and bowed. It had been at Elizabeth's insistence that their children be included as part of the ceremony; for, as she had declared, "This is as much a marriage of our two families as it is of us. Ann-Marie and Helen are to become my daughters and David and Jane, your children. It would be a poor start to the joining of our families to exclude them, would it not?"

As Darcy had no objections, the matter was settled and, if some spectators looked askance at their presence, their opinion was of too little moment to concern either Darcy or Elizabeth.

Elizabeth's sisters and her aunt and uncle had primacy of place on chairs behind her, while her father, who had travelled to London with her sister Mary, stood by her side. Darcy's sister and her husband and his cousins and Lord and Lady Fitzwilliam were seated behind Darcy.

"Who giveth this woman to be married to this man?" said Bishop Darcy, turning to Mr. Bennet, who held Elizabeth's right hand in his. He passed her hand to the bishop, who, in turn, placed it in Darcy's. Elizabeth had almost asked her uncle to perform the office but the insult to her father would have been too great, and as grievous as his failures as a parent had been, he had loved and cared for her, defended her where he could, and she would not be the person she was if she had not been his daughter. He was far from perfect but she loved him anyway. As she considered the man with whom she was now exchanging vows, she realized that he, and she, were equally imperfect but their imperfections complemented the other's. He was not perfect, but she loved him and he would do for her very well - very well indeed.

"Please repeat after me," said Bishop Fitzwilliam. "I, Fitzwilliam. . ."

"I, Fitzwilliam, take thee, Elizabeth, to my wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth."

Then Elizabeth took Darcy's right hand in hers, and Bishop Darcy said, "Please repeat after me. I, Elizabeth, . . ."

"I, Elizabeth, take thee Fitzwilliam, to my wedded husband, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love, cherish, and to obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I give thee my troth."

Henry Fellowes held out a folded paper with a gold ring on it and placed it on the Bible that the bishop held. Bishop Fitzwilliam took the ring and bowed his head over it for a few moments before handing it to Darcy.

Darcy took Elizabeth's left hand and paused, suddenly and unexpectedly transfixed by the laughter lurking in her sparkling eyes. The pause continued for some moments before she gave a soft laugh and whispered, very softly, "I pray you are not having second thoughts about wedding such an impertinent creature!"

The Bishop smiled and Darcy shook himself and grinned ruefully before sliding the ring onto her fourth finger.

"With this ring, I thee wed," he said intently, his eyes locked with hers, which had now gone serious. "With my body, I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods, I thee endow. In the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

He felt he could melt into the smile that suddenly blossomed on her face, and he forced himself to turn back to the Bishop and kneel beside Elizabeth on the cushion on the floor.

"Let us pray," said Bishop Fitzwilliam. "O eternal God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind . . ."

Elizabeth felt the accustomed words wash through her, and a deep sense of peace and thankfulness swept over her. She added her own heartfelt prayer to the words of Bishop Fitzwilliam, conscious of the blessings with which she had been gifted.

When the bishop was finished, he joined Darcy's and Elizabeth's hands together, intoning, "Those whom God hath joined together let no man put asunder. For as much as Elizabeth and Fitzwilliam have consented together in holy Wedlock, and have witnessed the same before God and this company, and thereto have given and pledged their troth either to the other, and have declared the same by giving and receiving of a ring, and by joining of hands; I pronounce that they be Man and Wife together, in the Name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen."

It is done, thought Darcy thankfully. All I have to do is kneel here holding this precious hand while my cousin says all the usual things.

The remainder of the ceremony passed – blessings, prayers, and charges to the married couple and to their friends and family gathered about them. As weddings go, this one was amongst the loveliest. Those apprised of its being a last minute affair were amazed that three days had been sufficient to achieve so much and, if it was not a lavish and public display, word of it spread quickly and the reports of it so appealing that to have been invited was soon acknowledged to be a signal honour and those purporting to have attended swelled to such a number as to have required Westminster Abbey to have accommodated them all. In truth, the ballroom was considerably less populated than when the ball was held several days previous, for the Countess had invited only her closest friends and relatives. Their presence in no way discomfited Darcy and Elizabeth, for they had eyes only for each other.

 **Malmesbury, Wiltshire**

That same Monday morning found Sebastian Stokes increasingly worried and very much puzzled. The latter state arose when he learned that Mrs. Waring and her party had yet to arrive at Oaksley. It was known that she was to have arrived on Sunday and the wedding to be held on Tuesday. Yet she had not, and it appeared that she was no longer expected at all. The rector could only inform him that she was to be wed in London. Stokes dare not inquire at Oaksley for further particulars of the situation, and relying on local gossip and rumours was far from satisfactory, as only information that the wedding was cancelled had been made known. His confusion, however, had little to do with his worry - he could not locate his son. He was here in the area for a certainty, for Sebastian had contacted John Seaton; but Nelson had disappeared afterwards and Seaton claimed no knowledge of his location when interviewed the evening past.

Stokes was unsure that Seaton's disclaimers could be relied upon. The man's dislike of the Mistress of Oaksley, while certainly justified in Stokes' opinion, could well make him inclined to ensure that such actions as could harm her proceeded unimpeded. The man was not stupid and may easily have suspected that Stokes' appearance in Malmesbury meant that any such plans might be curtailed.

He was adrift. He knew no one in the area that he could trust and who might have encountered his son – other than Seaton. He had strolled aimlessly through the main section of Malmesbury, searching every passing countenance, hoping that one of them would be his son. Finally, after an hour of fruitless meandering, he decided to seek out Seaton once more. His visit to the residence which Seaton and his family were forced to share with his parents produced one small portion of information. John Seaton had made contact with Nelson Stokes early that morning. This much had been imparted to his wife upon his return; however, as she was quick to inform Stokes, her husband had imparted nothing more to her. Stokes became aware that his presence was clearly uncomfortable for the elder Seaton, due to his past affiliation with the Warings, and departed after leaving word that he could be found at the _ Inn.

He had finally returned to his room, fatigued by both his efforts and frustration. That it should all come to this. It had seemed so simple after his wife's brother died. A defenceless widow with young children should have, after a proper amount of fear was implanted, been most willing to accede to any request made to her. To have encountered not only her strong opposition but also that of the Darcy and Fitzwilliam families and, as the final insult, to have his own brother turn against him – it was unconscionable. He still had difficulty comprehending how all his plans had come undone. And now he could not locate his worthless excuse for a son who, if allowed to proceed with whatever harebrained scheme he had concocted, would bring ruination upon his own family.

His bitterness mounted as the hours passed. It was several hours past noon when a knock sounded on his door.

"Who is it?" He barked.

"Nelson." was the reply.

Stokes threw open the door. "Get in!" He growled and his son did so, looking askance at his father.

"I might wonder," said he, "why I am greeted with such disrespect?"

Stokes was in such a mood as to make his son's words offensive. If his son had some marked accomplishment to his credit, he might merit respect. As he had none, apart from wasting his allowance on clothes and slightly dissipative behaviour, and as he had been unable to even secure the hand of his uncle's wife, Stokes was not inclined towards tolerance.

"Respect is earned!" snarled his father before directing Nelson to sit in the nearest chair.

"I do not have the pleasure of understanding you, father."

Stokes waved off this demand for an explanation.

"Our plans have fallen through." He replied. "Mrs. Waring is to marry and …."

"I know." Said Nelson, "Tomorrow, I have been told, although I have yet to learn that she has returned."

"She will not marry tomorrow according the local vicar. He is not privy to the reasons but has been advised by an express that his services will not be required and that she is to marry in London today."

"Who is she …?"

"To marry? A gentleman by the name of Fitzwilliam Darcy."

At his son's incredulous look, Stokes shared with him the disastrous events of the Fitzwilliam ball. It appeared that his son found the whole matter as distastefully incredible as himself, constantly asking to have portions of the tale repeated.

"So my uncle will not support us further and bids us to desist." He looked at his father speculatively, "Do we obey – perhaps you did not reach me in time to pass on his direction?"

Stokes growled, "He was adamant on the matter. Should harm befall the woman, we shall be held responsible and made to pay. We shall desist." He paused for a moment before adding, "As it is, the woman has not returned to Oaksley as planned and we cannot know where she is at this moment, or will be by the time we return to town. No," he shook his head, "we shall return to London to collect your mother and then to home."

"But! … But!"

He glared at his son, "Do not be stupid. We have been given such orders as cannot be gainsaid. We shall leave in an hour."

Nelson Stokes was seriously displeased and even more seriously dismayed. "What of my prospects? What am I to do?"

His father glared at his hapless son. "You must find a woman with fortune enough to support you and stupid enough to accept you. Perhaps that Miss Bingley might do. She appears, from what little I have seen of her, to place a great deal of value on a husband who is highly placed. She's also of an age where she might well accept a less advantageous match to avoid remaining a spinster. She is nigh unto thirty I believe."

Nelson Stokes grimaced slightly but his father could see that the idea, after a little reflection, was not altogether distasteful. He had her acquaintance briefly. If rumours were correct, her dowry was not insubstantial. Twenty thousand pounds! That might not be adequate to supporting them in the manner to which he had become accustomed but perhaps her brother could be persuaded to enhance that amount if only to free himself from the encumbrance of an unwed sister. Of her character he knew little and, if truth were known, cared less. She was handsome enough that she would not be a burden to bed and, if she was an unpleasant sort of person - and he rather suspected that might be the case else she would have long since been married - well, he did have his club and the door of his study could be locked. Her connections were acceptable and, while her fortune was earned from trade, her brother's marriage had cemented the Bingley's family's position in society. A marriage to him, with is connections, would advance her position. He was sure that she would see it so and could discern no impediment to his suit. Mrs. Waring could no longer be an object and, if Miss Bingley was the best he could do, then Miss Bingley it would have to be.


	32. Chapter 32

**Chapter 31**

 **North-East of London**

She had finally turned to him, after they had travelled the best part of an hour, having spent the past few minutes surveying the passing landscape. Her quizzical look spoke to her confusion.

"I had not thought Cornwall lay to the east of London?" She said.

The arch of her eyebrow was delightful and he thought to enjoy her uncertainty for a few moments but she would not allow it.

"William?"

"Ah . . . well. . .yes, to answer your question, you are quite exact, my love. Cornwall does not lie to the east of London."

She was silent considering what he had not said.

"Then, if I am to assume that we are not travelling to Cornwall, might you provide a hint or two as to our direction? Ohhh . . ."

Darcy had suddenly become distractingly interested in her person and her further attempts at interrogation were suspended for some minutes as his hands had taken such liberties with her body as to render her peace of mind questionable. With reluctance she pushed away from him and, when her breathing had some semblance of control, attempted to repeat her question.

"You shall not escape my . . ."

His lips claimed hers once again and then moved to her ear where he began to nibble. Her bonnet had long since disappeared. Elizabeth was not certain where it was now, finding it was not a priority and she wondered having such an errant thought. She squirmed around till she was almost facing him.

"I will not be dissuaded, Mr. Darcy!"

He kissed her again – more deeply.

"You will not be dissuaded . . .?" He asked, his smirk poorly repressed.

"William!"

His eyebrows rose mockingly.

Elizabeth huffed, "Insufferable! Is this what I must endure from now on?"

Darcy smiled at her again but, while tempted to tease her further, he was too eager to share his plans and chose to forgo such pleasure.

"We are, my love," and he kissed her again quickly, "on our way to Southend-on-Sea."

Elizabeth could not but exclaim in surprise, "Southend?"

"My father had a cottage built there shortly after he married and we would stay for a month every summer. My mother, in particular, was fond of the sea. I hope you are not disappointed by the change in plans. I wished my surprise to please you."

He was silent for a few moments for his father had not returned there after his wife's passing and Darcy had since then only returned in company with his Aunt and Uncle Fitzwilliam on two or three occasions only. Yet he could remember his time there with pleasure and hoped that, between them, he and Elizabeth would visit often and create equally happy memories.

"A cottage. . .in Southend?" Elizabeth mused. "May I inquire as to your reasons for the change?"

"Of course!" Darcy looked carefully at Elizabeth, wondering if perhaps it might not have been preferable to consult with her before making the decision to avoid Cornwall. While she had been pleased at the idea of visiting there, he had not discerned any particular attachment to the area. Would she take offence at his actions, perhaps consider it presumptuous? His pause lasted but a few moments and her quick shake of her head assuaged his concerns and he continued with his explanation.

"There were several reasons for changing our plans. I suppose that I could claim that it was done for your safety – we cannot know who may have learned of our plans to visit Cornwall and I am convinced that neither of us wishes to be imposed upon by your relatives from your first marriage. Or I could tell you that I was sure that since you had already visited Cornwall, as had I, that you would find greater enjoyment in a place that was undoubtedly new to you. Or that the thought of travelling one hundred and fifty miles on poor roads was not all that appealing. All perfectly true but of little consequence compared to the truth. I simply wished to be alone with you and to achieve that happy state as soon as was possible."

His smile was unrepentant, "However, I first began to consider a change in our plans when Henry Fellowes suggested we visit his relatives in Cornwall. Much as I esteem Henry's family, I do not wish to spend time with them on our wedding trip. So, when Georgiana reminded me of the cottage in Southend and wondered that we had not chosen to stay there, I was quite eager to make that our destination. In truth, I had forgotten all about it, but I was happy to be reminded for I had enjoyed my times there as a child and was sure that you would do so as well."

His features held such a look of apprehension that she might be unhappy with his actions that she drew him to her and kissed those concerns away, murmuring, "I will confess to a similar reaction when your sister mentioned visiting her husband's family on our wedding trip and I am quite pleased, and very relieved, at your thoughtfulness, William. I believe I shall enjoy the change. Is the cottage actually in Southend proper?"

"No, it is actually about a mile distant along the coast; however, it is a matter of a quarter hour to travel into Southend and there are entertainments there we can avail of should we wish to do so."

"I doubt, William, that I shall be at all interested in such entertainments for some days. I suppose there are paths that we might walk?"

"Indeed there are, and a beach of our own – a small one, but private. And I have arranged to have our riding horses stabled there as well, so we may explore for quite some distance on horseback as well as on foot."

"It sounds perfectly delightful. And is there sea-bathing in Southend? I have never had the pleasure of that activity but several acquaintances have spoken warmly of it."

"In Southend I believe there are a few bathing machines. We can investigate that possibility." He laughed, "As boys we swam from our beach. However," and he nuzzled her neck, "I do not believe that we will make any such attempt."

"I dare say not!"

She enjoyed his attentions for several moments before another thought crossed her mind.

"How far must we travel? When shall we arrive?"

"'Tis about forty miles from London and I hope that, as the weather has been fine for several days, we may arrive by dinner tonight. Certainly before dark."

Conversation drifted to other subjects and a gentle lassitude seemed to overtake them both as the easing of the tensions of the past few days gradually made themselves felt. As the weather remained fine, the roads seemingly the object of recent improvements and the coach solidly built with large heavy springs, the ride was sufficiently smooth as to allow them to doze for much of the trip, notwithstanding the usual stoppages, to change horses and to refresh themselves, that occurred.

It was very late in the afternoon, several hours before sunset, when Darcy saw they were approaching the cottage. Elizabeth was slumbering in his arms. He woke her by a gentle shake and whispered, "Elizabeth, we are about to arrive."

She blinked awake and stretched, her arms raised above her head. She caught Darcy eyeing her bosom and had no trouble identifying his thoughts. Her natural inclination to tease him was lost to the thrill of being the object of his attentions. They could not have arrived a minute later for she wanted nothing but to have him to herself and her desire was such as to make the prospect of waiting, a torment. All such thoughts disappeared when the cottage came into view. It was a large, two story building of some consequence situated in an expansive meadow, which sloped gradually down over a distance of perhaps a quarter mile to the ocean. The meadow was ringed by scattered copses of trees with a small stream running a short distance from the house and meandering its way down to the ocean, debouching through a small sandy beach.

"Just a humble little cottage, I see!"

"My parents thought it so." He laughed. "Of course, they frequently had company come to stay with them. I can remember Richard being here most summers."

The cottage was constructed of fieldstone and from the outside appeared quite commodious. This impression was confirmed when Elizabeth and Darcy undertook a brief tour while water was being heated for baths and a light dinner prepared. There were a half dozen large bedrooms in addition to a dining room and parlour, both of substantial size, and a study which contained a desk, several large comfortable armchairs and several poorly populated bookshelves. As well, there were quarters for more than a few servants; however, intrusion on the wedded couple's privacy was clearly to be minimal. Only a cook, Elizabeth's maid and Darcy's valet were to be present in the house while the two grooms responsible for the horses and carriage would be housed over the stables.

As it happened, neither Darcy nor Elizabeth was particularly hungry and their meals were only sketchily sampled. Elizabeth found herself unaccountably nervous, hesitant almost. The next step would, she knew, bind her irrevocably to her husband and it was not one that any woman could take without some slight trepidation.

'Foolish girl' she told herself. ' Do not be so missish! The bishop bound you to him this very morning.' But she knew, while the bishop's words were important, to accept her husband, to welcome him into her body, to find her pleasure and to give him the same, would seal their marriage as the Bishop's words could not do. While she was gathering her courage, Darcy found his own. He rose from the table and held out his hand.

"Come, it is time."

She rose gracefully and suddenly happily, quite willing to surrender this initiative to him. They walked up the stairs to their rooms without speaking although the brush of her body against his was eloquent enough for both. They had stopped as they reached her dressing room and Elizabeth moved to open the door. She had taken but a small step into the room when she looked back over her shoulder at Darcy and favoured him with a smile.

"I have dismissed Patience for the night but find I am in need of some assistance to disrobe. Might I request your services, sir?"

Darcy grinned. "I think, madam, you could not have found anyone more willing, and while I cannot claim any great talent as a replacement for your maid, I can assure you that you will find nothing wanting in my desire to be of service and to please."

"I shall hold you to that, Mr. Darcy."

"Minx!"

And he closed the door behind him.

The very air smelled different and she wondered sleepily why it was both different and yet familiar. She could see the curtains being puffed about by the breeze that invaded the room and suddenly the difference was obvious. The sea air had its own peculiar tang and she could hear the raucous cries of the gulls as they searched the shoreline for food. It had been too warm for blankets when they had fallen asleep and they had sought only a light sheet for comfort but now she could only repine the loss of warmth more blankets would provide. She shivered, burrowing back into the man who had cocooned her body. He snored softly in her ear, his hand held her breast possessively and his arousal pressed hard against her bottom.

Although she wished to stretch, she feared that would disturb her husband and she rather suspected he needed his sleep for she had quite used him thoroughly to the satisfaction of them both. In fact, as she recalled their activities of the previous evening, she marvelled at his ability to even summon an arousal this morning.

Darcy had proven to be a most delightful maid. Her disrobing had been slow, accompanied by the most intimate of caresses and kisses. Her thoughts had become so jumbled that she hardly knew what sounds she was making as he had, while endeavouring to remove her stockings, kissed a trail that only ended at her very core. His lingering kisses there would have brought on her own crisis of pleasure if he had not desisted. She was, by then, wearing only a single silk shift and the string of his mother's pearls. Her knees had so lost their strength she collapsed on the stool that faced her mirror.

Stepping behind her, Darcy undid the clasp of the pearls from the back of her neck.

His nearness had made her breathless and she was unable to speak.

Darcy watched her. . .countenance rise up and down in the mirror as she attempted to calm herself. Mesmerized, he did not release the necklace after unfastening it. Instead, he let the pearls slide slowly through his grasp while his hand made its way around to her throat and then down to her heart. His other hand held her still as his fingers slipped below the lace of her shift. She shivered at his touch but when she pressed herself into his palm, Darcy squeezed her until she cried out. Controlling his desire to rip the front of the garment off, Darcy released his hold, removed his hand and urged her to stand.

She had hardly done so when her world spun about her and she was in his arms and being carried to their bed. The divestiture of his own clothing had happened so quickly she had barely time to admire his form before he was lying beside her and gathering her in his arms once more. She had found herself so bereft of patience that, while he was undressing, her last remaining garment had been discarded and no sooner had he joined her on the bed than she was demanding that he join with her and would not allow him to do otherwise. Her pleasure had followed almost immediately, and she supposed she would forgive him his soft laugh of satisfaction as she had succumbed. She could recall him vividly, even now some hours later, pulsating within her body, the slow movements as he stroked her, allowing her pleasure to build once more. At first she wondered at his control, waiting so long to take his own pleasure, but it had taken only a few movements on her own part, clutching his arousal with her internal muscles and he had come completely undone. She had refused to allow him to move way, trapping him and his precious essence within her body.

So they had remained until he softened and slipped away from her grasp. She must have fallen asleep, her head buried in her pillow, only to be awakened some hours later by his demanding caresses. He had moved over her and must have induced her responses even as she slept for her body had undoubtedly been ready to welcome him. It was his movement into her, as he brought her bottom up to ease his passage. He insinuated himself deeply inside her, nothing she had ever experienced could compare. Every stroke seemed to work its own magic and she had lost count of her own pleasures before he realized his. When he had collapsed by her side, she had crawled and slid a leg across his, pressing herself as close as was possible and rested her head on his chest, listening to his heart as it gradually returned to its normal beat. Her handed rested on his chest as well and she found herself stroking him, pulling gently on his chest hairs, brushing her fingers across his nipples. There was no intent to arouse. It was in essence an attempt to prolong that closeness that they had shared. Words almost seemed superfluous and yet, unbidden, there was something she could not but utter.

"I had thought this part of my life was over, William. I had never expected to meet a man who could stir my passion as you have done. Yours shall be the last face I see when I go to sleep and the first when I wake and I would have it no other way. I love you Fitzwilliam Darcy. I want you never to doubt that."

She could feel his fingers threading her hair, stroking her, caressing the side of her face. His voice was husky with emotion.

"And I hope that you, Elizabeth Darcy, never have cause to doubt my devotion."

The power of speech seemed finally to have deserted them both and within minutes they had drifted off to sleep. It was several hours later when the need to relieve herself woke Elizabeth. She supposed, from the traces of light penetrating the curtains, that it an hour or two past dawn. It was a matter of only a few minutes to address the problem that woke her but, by the time she was ready to crawl back into bed, the sight of Darcy sprawled out on his back, his body covered by the lightest of sheets and available for her inspection, turned her thoughts away from slumber.

It was the work of a moment to remove that sheet for it was still too warm to make its presence necessary. That he was a handsome man, she had long known. Her knowledge of men's bodies was, by virtue of being a gentleman's daughter, limited although marriage had certainly expanded her understanding. Darcy's position now allowed her the freedom for the most intimate of explorations. And explore and touch and kiss and caress she did and such was the extent of her activities that the subject of them turned on his side and gathered her into his arms once more, her back to his chest and his hand firmly grasping her breast once more.

She wiggled her body closer to his and felt his arousal twitch against her bottom. His grasp of her breast which had slackened slightly, tightened its grip and pulled her more closely to his chest. Her musings as to the state of his wakefulness were soon answered as he began to stroke her breast and, as that did not allow him as much access as she wished, she moved slightly so as to lie on her back.

"This is," she whispered, "my preferred way of being woken, and glad I am that you appear to be of a like mind and capable of performing the office. . .again."

"I have waited almost eight years for these moments, Lizzy. I shall not be denied."

"And I, sir, shall certainly not deny anything which affords me such pleasure. As a fine gentleman once said to me, I shall not suspend any pleasure of yours."

Darcy chuckled and then began to apply himself to his task; however, this time she was not of a mind to allow him to control their activities. She began kissing and nipping his body from his chest down past his stomach until she encountered that which had been her object from the start. She kissed it and it tasted, she suspected, of herself. Never having done anything like this before, she could not explain her next action other than to suppose that if she could find pleasure when he tasted her, he might well enjoy the same. That her instinct was correct soon became evident both by Darcy's gasp and by the fact that that which had been hard, became harder still.

Removing her lips, she considered her success and a giggle escaped her. She had never been so audacious. Sensing he was about to assume command of the situation, she quickly moved to straddle his hips. Grasping his hands with her own to forestall any hindrance on his part, it was a matter of seconds to find the right position. She slid down his length which filled her completely.

"I shall have my way with you, sir.""

Darcy laughed. "Ravish me as you will, my love."

And she did. Quite thoroughly. But as she collapsed on his chest, her breathing ragged and her heart pounding, she found that he had was still imprisoned in her body and, if possible, more. . .resolute than ever. Before she could attend to his needs, he had rolled her under him and was quite determinedly taking his pleasure of her. He was demanding, powerful and relentless and she felt herself responding once more until the sensation of him spilling his warmth into her womb brought a burst of wild, explosive ecstasy as to render her totally limp. Darcy himself seemed no better as he collapsed atop her, his weight pressing her deep into the mattress. She could summon neither the will nor the desire to have him move. And he did not for some time. When, finally, he did move, it was to shift himself to her side, an arm draped across her body.

"I am, Elizabeth, completely undone."

"I do not know how it is to be possible, sir, but I was assured, some years ago by your aunt, that practice is required for true proficiency. I doubt that I could survive should you achieve greater skill."

"I did. . .you found your pleasure then?"

Elizabeth was amazed. "Oh my love, could you not tell?"

"We men are foolish creatures, dearest. My satisfaction in pleasing you feeds that arrogant pride you once decried. And yet, I cannot deny the joy of hearing you admit that I have afforded you such pleasure."

"Admit it! My love, I would, if propriety allowed, proclaim it to one and all. And, while your pride has and can still offend me on occasion, I will concede that, in this instance, you have earned the right to be arrogant. You have acquitted yourself most excellently, sir." She brushed her fingers across his lips. "I had suspected that you would be a passionate lover, but I find that I had no comprehension of what that would mean. I had not realized that a man could be so powerful, so demanding, so. . .your hardness conquered me, and your willingness to suspend your pleasure to afford me my own, overcomes me altogether. And then, to allow me to have some control, to take my own selfish pleasure, I. . ." She embraced him and kissed him passionately, "I had never thought my love for you could grow even further, but it has. You are everything to me."

They must have dropped off to sleep shortly thereafter. She could not remember covering their bodies with the sheet and could only suppose he had done so before succumbing to unconsciousness.

Hunger of a different sort led to their next awakening. Hunger and an earnest desire to bathe, for their exertions, as enjoyable as they were, were accompanied by no small evidence of the effort. As Elizabeth laughingly noted, "It would not do to remain in these sheets much longer. They are most unpleasantly damp now."

"And I, Mrs. Darcy, am greatly in need of a bath and I suspect that you would not take one amiss."

Not waiting for her response, he left the bed, retrieved and donned his dressing gown from a nearby chair and stepped through the door to his dressing room. She could hear the murmur of voices and then he returned.

"I have ordered a breakfast tray – although it may as well be called lunch for the hour is past ten – and a hot bath for each of us." He grinned at her. "Unfortunately, I did not think to have my tub brought from London."

Elizabeth quirked an eyebrow at him. "And the special properties of this tub?"

"It is large enough to accommodate us both, my love, and I have, on more than one occasion, imagined bathing in it with you."

Elizabeth looked at him speculatively, "Am I to assume that bathing was not the only activity engaged in?"

Darcy smiled wickedly and Elizabeth chuckled, "Well, in that case, Mr. Darcy, it is perhaps as well it is not here. I suspect my own poor body requires some respite. A hot bath - a very hot bath - will not be unwelcome."

Eat and bathe they did and, once those needs were satisfied, nothing would do but to venture outdoors to explore the area around the cottage. The small beach was their first object, and their last, for someone had placed a heavy wooden bench to one side of the beach and there they chose to sit and gaze out at the waters spread before them. There was a sense of privacy about where they sat that Darcy was not reluctant to avail himself of, laying siege to Elizabeth's lips and neck until finally she could take no more.

"We must return now, else I shall not be held accountable for my wanton behaviour. I want you now, William! Please!"

He lurched to his feet, almost dumping her from the bench, and grabbing her hand, set off at an extremely brisk pace for the house. She staggered behind him, laughing, trying to match his pace, her eagerness as great as his yet almost being dragged behind him in his rush. He finally realized her difficulty and lifted her, one arm cradling her back, the other supporting her knees, and strode so quickly to the cottage as to almost be running.

His strength amazed her once more. She knew that while she was hardly a large woman, she had not believed him capable of handling her so easily. Her thoughts were very soon distracted by the sight of his neck and her lips found their way there to nibble and suckle. He seemed to move even faster and she began to laugh and the shocked look on her maid's face as they burst by her to climb the stairs caused her to laugh even harder.

His services as a maid were once more required although in this instance her garments were shed with such speed as to make her wonder if they remained undamaged. She had had visions of him throwing her down on the bed and coupling with her immediately and she admitted to herself that her own urgent desires would have welcomed him eagerly. But it was not to be.

Instead she was laid most carefully across the bed, her legs dangling partially over the side. He stood looming over her, his hands supporting his weight on either side of her body and smiled and murmured, "Our wedding ceremony required me to make a particular vow."

He responded to her look of puzzlement with a soft chuckle.

"It is one that I have no reluctance to honour."

Her eyebrows arched and his smiled widen as he leaned down to whisper against her lips, "With my body, I thee worship"

And he did.

She had lost all sense of time, the sensations of her own body had made the concept meaningless and she could only suppose his condition to be equally so for he had collapsed beside her, his breathing ragged and his heart pounding.

It was some minutes before either of them could stir.

"I swear, Elizabeth, that I have finally understood why the French call it the petit mort."

She chuckled softly. Using the covering sheet from the bed, she wiped the sweat from his face and chest and then did the same for herself.

"I fear, William, that we shall quite exhaust the patience of Patience and James in tending to our bed."

"I believe I need another bath; however, the thought of moving from this bed is beyond my comprehension at the moment. I doubt I have strength enough to cross the room."

A general feeling of lassitude crept over them both and they were content to lay together on their bed, murmuring occasionally, touching and caressing uninhibitedly. Elizabeth found great pleasure in exploring his chest and nipples, tweaking his chest hair and snickering at his mock protests. For his part, Darcy stroked her face, closing his eyes to allow his fingers to sketch her countenance. Neither was sure how long they lay there but the sounds of their servants moving in the next room alerted them to the need to rise and dress once more. As it was still several hours before supper, the decision to attempt once more to explore the area was proposed and acted upon. If they walked more slowly than was their usual wont, neither was disposed to take exception to the fact, and they eventually returned to dine and afterwards to sit in the drawing room and read together for an hour or two before returning to their bedchamber and the delights they could create there.


	33. Chapter 33

**Chapter 32**

 **Bingley's House, Grosvenor Street**

It was a very warm summer's day and, if his thoughts had been unpleasant, Nelson Stokes might not have enjoyed strolling through Hyde Park. As it was, his mood and the day existed in perfect harmony. Nonetheless, he had donned a demeanour such as to discourage the approach of anyone other than the most resolute acquaintance for he had a great deal to think about and casual interruptions were unwelcome. He and his father had returned from Malmesbury the evening before - tired, dusty and frustrated at the failure of their schemes. While he had been prepared to shrug the matter off as a bad business and continue on with his usual life, his father had not. In fact, his father had spent much of the time during their return to London considering his son's future, a subject Nelson would have preferred to avoid. His father was adamant – Nelson must be gainfully employed for he would no longer support him as a gentleman of leisure. It was all arranged. He was to take orders and, once that was done, would have bestowed upon him a very respectable living, a benefice of his uncle, the Earl. He was not altogether pleased by his father's news; however, the living was in close proximity to his uncle's estate and only several hours' travel from either Manchester or Leeds. He would not be wholly bereft of society.

The prospect of being a pastor, delivering sermons and involving himself in the clerical duties of a parish was only tolerable when the alternatives were considered. He was of no mind to hazard a military career; he much preferred the thought of dying of old age in his own bed to that of an early grave on a battlefield or a life of pain and disfigurement from wounds. While the prospect of a life as a barrister was not unappealing – it was his father's choice after all – his family did not have the funds to spare to support him for years while he studied at the Inns of the Court and then developed a solid career. No, a clergy man he would have to be. And as to the duties, well surely curates were in ready supply – and cheap. If he chose well, he might never have to preach more than once or twice a year.

That was not the whole of the matter, for a cleric's income while sufficient to support a gentleman used to living in a very moderate fashion, would be far from adequate to support him in the manner to which he had become accustomed. Therefore, he must marry. His mother had a most eligible candidate – her niece's sister-in-law possessed an excellent fortune. That it had been earned in trade was regrettable but the woman herself had, at least, received the education required in the best circles - even if her breeding was wanting. As it happened, Nelson did not disagree with his mother's opinion for, as well as her fortune, the lady was not unattractive and would look well on his arm in public and on his bed in private. He would wish for no more.

So, here he was, on his way to make his interest and intentions known. It was not the future he hoped for but Oaksley could no longer be an object and the enticing prospect of its mistress in his bed must be forgotten. That she would be bedded by another - apparently a gentleman of such consequence as to make his uncle, the Earl, step away from a confrontation – aroused a frisson of anger that he forced down lest it throw into confusion his composure. That could not be permitted for, while he had every confidence that his suit would be successful, it would not do to appear in any disarray.

He had arrived. He shrugged his shoulders as if to make his clothing more comfortable. In reality, it was to settle his nerves.

He was quickly shown into the main drawing room. There to greet him were Mrs. Bingley and Miss Bingley. Mr. Bingley apparently had been notified of his visit for he joined them shortly thereafter. There was one subject of conversation, and one subject only. The marriage of Mrs. Waring to Mr. Darcy had been announced only the day before and all of London - or rather, all of that portion of London for which such news was of importance – was astonished and bewildered in equal proportions. Mr. Darcy had once more set down the ladies of society, choosing as his bride another woman of whom little was known, but who had, it seemed, won the support of the Fitzwilliam family and the heart of Fitzwilliam Darcy.

Mrs. Bingley was inclined to be gracious.

"I confess I was quite impressed by Mrs. Waring, or rather, Mrs. Darcy now." She paused very briefly to cast a wary eye at Miss Bingley before continuing, "She presents herself exceptionally well. We are all, of course, very much interested in learning the particulars of their romance, for I can assure you, that no one who watched them dance would doubt their affections. To think of their meeting again after being separated for so many years. One cannot but wonder how it all came about."

She looked at Nelson Stokes, "But, is she not your. . .aunt, Mr. Stokes? You must know her quite well, I am sure."

Nelson Stokes forced himself to speak in a disinterested tone, "I cannot claim more than the slightest acquaintance, I am afraid. We have met but two or three times and then only briefly."

There was something in his tone which, to Miss Bingley, suggested that he was not as unconcerned as he wished to convey. She allowed her thoughts to consider his situation further and wondered if, before Elizabeth Bennet married Mr. Waring, Nelson Stokes might have been the heir to the Oaksley estate. If so, his resentment in regards of Elizabeth Bennet might mirror her own. So wrapped in her thoughts was she that she was caught unprepared when Nelson Stokes addressed her directly.

"I must beg your indulgence, Mr. Stokes. My thoughts were otherwise engaged. If you would repeat your question, I will be pleased to answer."

"Ah. Indeed! No excuses are required, Miss Bingley. Your brother has suggested that you were on familiar terms with Mrs. Waring some years ago in Hertfordshire."

"I would never wish to claim an intimate acquaintance with Miss, . .Mrs. Darcy. We were indifferent acquaintances at best."

Mrs. Bingley hurriedly prevented the conversation from deteriorating for she knew her sister-in-law's opinions on Mrs. Darcy – they had been voiced with great frequency since the night of the ball and, though she hardly thought it possible, with increased venom since reading the announcement of her marriage to Fitzwilliam Darcy.

"Mr. Bingley and I shall be travelling to Ashton Manor, in a few days, Mr. Stokes. Are you planning to visit your uncle in the country? I have heard the hunting is excellent there."

Nelson Stokes shook off his bemusement at Miss Bingley's disdain for Mrs. Darcy.

"My plans are not fixed at the moment, Mrs. Bingley."

Their conversation was interrupted at this point by the introduction of other callers and Stokes rose to take his leave as propriety demanded for he had been there a quarter hour already. Before he left, however, he addressed Miss Bingley.

"I wonder if I might interest you in a drive through Hyde Park tomorrow, Miss Bingley?"

The lady's assent was readily given, an appropriately fashionable time for the exercise was arranged and he took his leave.

Stokes arrived at the appointed time, driving a smart curricle and, once his companion was safely seated, drove to South Carriage Drive to see and be seen. As Miss Bingley was shortly to leave for the country, Stokes felt some pressure to further his suit. They drove slowly back and forth on the Drive, stopping frequently to talk with acquaintances. Stokes was pleased to observe that her manners were appropriate for her station - properly deferential to those of greater consequence and coolly condescending to those of lesser. There was nothing of particular substance to be found in her conversation although her powers in that respect were considerable. She could describe an entertainment with accuracy, relate an anecdote with humour, and laugh at their acquaintances with spirit. If there was generally an edge of malice in her humour, it was much to Stokes' appreciation. He could not see any particular affection on her part for any of her acquaintances that they met, nor any on their part. He wondered if she had any real friends. Of particular interest, however, was her apparent dislike of the new Mrs. Darcy. Her brother had intimated that they had met her in the past and he could not but wonder what events had transpired as to produce such an attitude. While she said nothing that could be discerned as criticism while speaking with others, her disdain was poorly masked.

There was, for some time, too many interruptions for them to converse freely but eventually they exhausted the supply of acquaintances and he could turn the conversation to the matter which most interested him.

"I was surprised, Miss Bingley, at the apparent difference between your brother's opinion of Mrs. Darcy and yours. He almost seemed to admire her. Was there a previous interest - a tendre for the lady – on his part?"

Miss Bingley could not restrain herself. She snorted. "Hardly, although I do not deny he thought well of her. No, his. . .tendre, if you will, was for her older sister."

"Obviously, he did not pursue her."

"We convinced him she was quite unsuitable – which she was – and Mr. Darcy supported our efforts."

Stokes was surprised, "His opinion must have altered greatly over the years for he offered for Mrs. Waring and she accepted him despite such interference. One wonders if she knew of his efforts in support of his friend? Surprising, indeed, quite amazing." As it was clearly too late to alter the course of events, Stokes put aside a fleeting urge to make Mrs. Darcy aware of her husband's previous actions.

"Why so? He is a gentleman of great consequence and wealth."

"Mrs. Darcy needed neither. Her situation was. . .admirable. She need not marry at all and I have been given reason to believe that such was, at one time, her intention."

Miss Bingley wished to explore the matter of Mrs. Darcy's intentions further but Stokes' next question diverted her thoughts.

"This does not explain your antipathy towards the lady, which you have not denied."

Miss Bingley's mortification with the treatment accorded her by Elizabeth at the ball, taken in conjunction with her longstanding jealousy, was not likely to allow her to temper the expression of her opinions of the lady. Stokes was, therefore, the recipient of a cataloging of Elizabeth's impertinent manners, her lack of beauty, her poor connections, the want of propriety of her family, not even excepting herself, for as Miss Bingley was eager to state – what proper lady walks three miles through mud only for the purpose of attending an ill sister?

"Mr. Darcy admired her even then – her fine eyes, in particular. But," she sneered, "he would not offer for her. He would not disgrace his station by doing so."

"I understand," replied Stokes, "that his first wife was a parson's daughter from the north."

Miss Bingley paled and her lips compressed to a thin, white line. She did not deign to respond and Stokes saw no purpose in provoking her further. He had his answer. Jealousy! And of the ability of other women to secure Mr. Darcy's regard. At least he would not have to worry that she would desire to establish a close acquaintance with the Darcys. He would arrange to speak with her brother when he returned her home. It was best to have the practical arrangements in order before speaking to the lady herself. Unless matters could be settled to his satisfaction, there would be no point. He suspected that the lady might have to be brought to fully understand her situation and that was best left to her brother.

Upon arriving at the Bingleys, Stokes was shown into Charles Bingley's study. His request for the meeting had been greeted with some surprise – no less on the part of the lady's brother for there had been nothing in his sister's demeanour that suggested such an interview was required.

Stokes did not consider himself to be particularly observant, but he quickly understood that Bingley's study was much more a place of business than it was a place for him to relax. The bookshelves contained fewer than a hundred volumes and it is doubtful that any had been read in years. Certainly none of the volumes contained there looked to have been purchased recently; however, several large cabinets were in evidence and, if the folders atop them were an indication, Bingley was much engaged in business. There had been no reports to suggest the man was involved in trade but it would do no harm to explore the matter. He waved at the file cabinets.

"I had not realized that your interests in business was still. . .active."

Bingley gestured for his guest to sit in front of his desk, offered him a glass of port, which was readily accepted and poured one for himself before addressing the implied question. It was, he understood, not a trivial one.

"I have many business interests, investments if you will. I am loath to leave their management to another."

"I am surprised that you have not acquired an estate?"

Bingley's eyebrows rose. This was a singularly direct approach. Rather impertinent also. He was silent and, as he could see his guest's increasing discomfit, remained so.

"I apologize" gritted out Stokes. "That was impolitic. I meant only that most gentlemen in your circumstances would have sought to improve their situation by such an acquisition."

Bingley nodded slowly. It was, he knew, a reasonable supposition and one that his wife's family had pressed him on more than once. However, as it was his wealth that helped support several of that family, they were not disposed to contest the matter strongly. As it was he had quietly acquired a country home with a small park and a number of tenant farms which, as he had no desire to manage, he had leased out to another local landowner. He saw no reason to disclose the particulars of his acquisition at the moment. At some point, perhaps, but not yet.

"Your comment, Mr. Stokes, is not. . .unusual. The matter is simple. I enjoy the country to visit, enjoy the people as well, but the city holds more attractions and I find myself better suited for matters of business than managing an estate. As well, the prospects for landowners are not as. . .enticing, shall we say, as they were in the past. The end of the war against the French tyrant has not been to their benefit."

Bingley did not disclose that he also found business much more interesting as well as profitable and had, over the past years, had increased his wealth by more half again, notwithstanding the extra expenses incurred by his marriage. He knew from his relatives that their estates were suffering from reduced revenues, and pinching their lifestyle as a result. His wealth, despite being from trade, was very welcome. He wished now to learn of his guest's reason for requesting this meeting and said as much.

Stokes settled himself more comfortably in his chair. He remained confident that his object would be received appreciatively.

"I will be blunt, Mr. Bingley. I wish to arrange a marriage with your sister, Miss Bingley."

Bingley did not pretend surprise. He had suspected as much when the meeting was requested. He was only amazed that Stokes was acting so precipitously. He had not even attempted to court his sister. Bingley relayed that thought to his guest.

"I saw no purpose, Mr. Bingley. I. . ."

"I will not force my sister to marry against her will, Mr. Stokes!"

"You are prepared then to have her remain unmarried, sir?"

Bingley checked his statement, for Stokes had, unknowingly, struck the nub of the question. For circumstances now dictated that Bingley find an alternate accommodation for his sister. She could no longer reside with him and his wife. Amanda's condition – she was with child – precluded it. She had already lost two babes and the doctor had warned that she could lose another unless she was comfortably and quietly settled – preferably in the country. His wife wanted this child a great deal and her increasing dissatisfaction with her sister-in-law had been made known to him. As Caroline had never appreciated the country, was rarely reluctant to express her displeasure at its society at some length and volume, and was the source of much tension within the Bingley household, her presence was no longer tolerable. He was not, however, prepared to allow the initiative to remain with his visitor.

"That shall be her choice, and hers alone."

"I suggest, Mr. Bingley, that she should be encouraged to make the choice of greatest benefit to you. I am willing to marry her should you increase her dowry by another twenty thousand pounds. That will be sufficient to support her, and myself, in the style to which we have become accustomed."

"Increase her dowry! Why should that be necessary?"

"She has been 'out' for over ten years, has she not?" Bingley reluctantly conceded that to be the case and Stokes blessed his father's acumen in this instance for he had prepared him well. "Then I can only assume she has not had an offer that meets with her requirements, or yours." Bingley nodded in assent, for the gentlemen who possessed the status and connections his sister sought, had been of such a character as to preclude forming an attachment. It appeared that only wastrels or gamblers or men endowed with a weak character and bankrupt estates were prepared to marry his sister. He had seen and rejected them all.

"Regardless of the deficiencies of such suitors, I cannot see that your situation has much to recommend it. You do not possess, to my knowledge, an independence capable of supporting a wife. Do you mean to live off my sister's fortune?"

Stokes nodded calmly. The question was not unexpected. "Of course not, or at least, only in part. While I do not yet have a profession, I am to take orders and my uncle has agreed to bestow on me a valuable living under his control and has also promised another when the incumbent can no longer perform his duties. As well I am to inherit my parent's townhouse in Manchester. Should we marry, your sister and I will have a most comfortable home in the parsonage. You, nor she, can deny the significance of my connections. My uncle is the Earl of _."

"There is perhaps a more important consideration you should think about." He paused briefly before adding, "Tell me. Do you wish to have your sister live with you for the remainder of her days?"

"Should I wish her gone, I can set her up in her own establishment and sign over her dowry to her control. I see no need to force her to marry." He smirked at his guest, "As well, I can assure you that my sister will be far from enthused at the prospect of being a parson's wife."

"As happy as I at being a parson, I assume." Stokes' smile was mirthless, "However, I do not anticipate that I shall remain a parson. My uncle has connections with the church as to ensure my rapid promotion. I have been assured he will use them to my advantage." He paused for a few moments to allow Bingley to consider his words before resuming.

"I had not thought of it as forcing her to marry, Mr. Bingley. But there is a degree of respect attached to being married that a woman cannot claim as a spinster. Indeed, the latter are frequently the object of derision. Besides, can you be assured that should she remain a spinster, albeit an independent one, that your obligations will cease? I wonder. I also wonder at the cost of forming an establishment for her?"

Bingley was thoughtful for several long moments, "I will speak with my sister tonight. If she is agreeable to your suit, I will send you a note in the morning and you can speak with her that same afternoon."

"And I, sir, will be prepared to making it, if we are in agreement as to the improvement of her dowry."

While Bingley was not surprised to find the gentleman obdurate on this point, what astonished him was that such a demand produced as little dismay as it did. To be finally rid of Caroline's company at such a low cost was an outcome much to be desired; however, he was not prepared to concede the matter without further negotiation. However, it was matter of only a few minutes' discussion to arrive at an acceptable compromise. Caroline Bingley's dowry would be increased to thirty thousand pounds. Shortly thereafter Stokes took his leave.

Caroline Bingley was confused and that state arose from the peculiar events of the day. Not, she thought, that there had been any confusion about the attentions paid her by Nelson Stokes. If the gentleman had not been overflowing with admiration, he certainly had not sought to hide his intentions from her, their acquaintances and her brother – for had he not sought an interview with the latter upon returning her home after their outing in Hyde Park? She was not sure of her own feelings on the matter for life had treated her poorly these past few years. Her age had begun to weigh more heavily in men's minds – and her own - than either her fortune or her figure. She had danced but once – with her own brother – at the Darcy's engagement ball. And no one had sought to court her for two years at least, possibly more.

Now Nelson Stokes had chosen to do so. He was not a particularly handsome man, nor was he wealthy. In fact, he was a pauper compared to herself. His connections were adequate although he would never possess a title for his uncle had sons of his own to inherit the earldom. She could welcome his attentions but need not fear herself obliged to accept his offer should – no, when – it was made. Nelson Stokes' attentions were not the source of her confusion. That arose from her brother's behaviour. In the past, he had rarely spoken to a suitor beyond the common civilities. The choice of a husband he had informed her more than once, was hers alone. In this instance, however, he had not only spoken with Stokes but their discussion had lasted for some time and, following it, he and his wife had retired to their chambers for a private discussion instead of, as was his usual practice, informing her immediately of what had passed between him and her suitor. Her puzzlement was compounded by the expression of contentment worn by her sister-in-law when they rejoined Caroline, and her refusal to disclose the content of those discussions. Caroline found it extremely aggravating and, she admitted to herself, a trifle worrisome. She could not suppress the feeling that her brother and his wife were conspiring against her and, when they requested her presence in the library after dinner, her suspicions and temper were both raised.

She was greeted by her brother's usual cheerful demeanour when she entered the room. He directed her to a chair positioned in opposition to two others one of which had already been claimed by Amanda Bingley. Once she was settled and supplied with refreshment – surprisingly sherry for the ladies and port for Charles – she attempted to gain the initiative.

"I presume that we are met to discuss Mr. Stokes. Do I assume he wishes to court me?"

Amanda Bingley hid a slight smirk and Charles Bingley shook his head amusedly. "No, he does not!"

Caroline gaped, "He does not!"

"He has come to me with an offer of marriage for you."

Caroline was speechless for a few seconds. The rapidity of events left her bemused but she rallied and blurted, "He has said nothing to me. I am barely acquainted with the man. He cannot be serious. Besides marriages are arranged now only amongst the highest nobility."

"He is quite serious, Caroline. Quite serious and I shall invite him to attend you tomorrow to make his offer, should you wish it."

Caroline huffed in relief, "So I am to be allowed a choice then." Her tone was acerbic and neither of the others was in doubt as to her displeasure with the course of events. She was about to expound on the matter in more detail and greater vehemence when her brother pre-emptied her by holding up his hand.

"Before you attempt to castigate me and Mr. Stokes over how we are handling the matter, there are two factors which you must understand." He paused to allow her to respond which she did with a curt nod. "Very well. The first is simple, Caroline. The choice whether to accept Mr. Stokes or not, does remain yours. It is your life and neither Amanda nor I wish to tie you for life to a man you cannot tolerate. So I repeat, the choice is yours whether or not you wed Mr. Stokes."

Caroline Bingley nodded once more, with greater satisfaction. The latter did not last longer than her brother's subsequent words.

"However Caroline, should you decide to not to accept Mr. Stokes, you must be aware that you shall no longer reside with us. I will set you up in your own establishment – here in London or in Bath or in some other place of your choice."

Caroline Bingley was beyond astonishment. Never had she expected to be cast off by her family. The Hursts were no longer a comfortable place to visit. Two children and a new-found preference for a quieter life had removed them from those activities upon which Caroline doted. Moreover, she had detected a certain coolness from both her sister and her husband the last time she visited and, when she left, there were no assurances provided that a future visit would be welcomed. She was brought back to her surroundings by Amanda Bingley's words.

"Charles has not given you the reasons for our having arrived at such a decision." She paused to clear her throat and Bingley reached over to touch her arm. She smiled gratefully at him before turning back to Caroline.

"You undoubtedly are aware of this circumstance, Caroline, for we have not attempted to hide the matter from you; however, I suspect that the implications are not obvious. But. . .you see, I have. . .I have lost two babes since our marriage. I am once again with child and our physician has strongly recommended that I leave town for the country."

Bingley interjected now, "We shall stay at Ashton manor for a month or so before moving to a home I have purchased in Kent. That shall be our principal residence henceforth."

Caroline hardly knew what to think. Her sister-in-law had never seemed to be one inclined to bearing or raising children and her loss of the two she had conceived was obviously more distressing to her than Caroline had thought. Nonetheless, a connection between her own circumstances and those of her sister-in-law escaped her.

"I am sorry for your loss and, of course, pleased that you may have a child." Neither Charles nor his wife were unaware that Caroline viewed children as little more than an annoying and noisy distraction. She continued, "But I fail to understand why that should require you to force me from your household."

Charles responded. "Our physician has made it clear that not only must Amanda remove to the country but she also requires quieter, more placid surroundings. You have never been reluctant to express your distaste for the country, nor for its society unless it is replete with people of consequence. We shall be retiring to the small estate I purchased near Ramsgate and none of our neighbours would be pleasing to you and I do not wish to have Amanda made unhappy with your complaints and disapprobation of the area."

"The Hursts. . ."

". . .will not have you as Louisa is with child again!"

Caroline was enraged, "So I am to be cast off by my family."

"Caroline, your circumstances are of your own making. You are now thirty, have rejected any number of suitors in the past because they did not meet your exacting standards. You pursued poor Darcy for years, despite his obvious lack of interest, and despite warnings from me that he would not offer for you. You wasted those best years against my advice when you could well have attracted an eligible gentleman. You have no one to blame for your circumstances but yourself." He shrugged his shoulders, "It has come to this. Accept Nelson Stokes or I will create an establishment for you. And," he paused to point his finger at her, "you must choose now – immediately - for I must inform Stokes as to whether he should call or not."

Caroline looked beseechingly at her friend but Amanda simply shook her head. "I am with my husband on this Caroline. You have had ample opportunities to establish yourself with a husband. I am sorry that the choice is not better than it is, but that again is largely of your own doing." She paused briefly, "I know nothing bad of Mr. Stokes. I have no reason to suspect he will not make a satisfactory husband."

Caroline knew that unless she was to face a future as a spinsterish, maiden aunt valued little by her relations, her choice was simple. She could only suppose that she would be treated with the same disdain as she would accord one of her relatives in such a situation, and the thought of being so little regarded and valued left a sour taste in her mouth and her stomach clenched with the desire to expel its contents. Something of her feelings must have been apparent to her brother for he spoke gently to her.

"Come Caroline, it shall not be so bad. Mr. Stokes is a gentleman, comes from a respectable family, has decent connections – his uncle is the Earl of _, after all. He will have a gentleman's profession, a very respectable income and will inherit his parent's townhouse one day." He paused briefly, "And I have agreed to enhance your dowry slightly to make your circumstances more comfortable. There is, however, once circumstance that I feel it is imperative you be made aware of before you reach a decision."

He glanced warily at Caroline. He was sure that his wife was surreptitiously rolling her eyes beside him. They had both recognized that Caroline might, despite her distaste for the life of a spinster, prefer that condition to being the wife of a cleric. Caroline looked at her brother with increasing suspicion. Whatever was to be disclosed would clearly not be to her liking, else it would have already been brought forward. She had to wait but a few more seconds for her brother to speak again.

"It appears, Caroline, that Mr. Stokes will not be able to maintain a lifestyle of a gentleman – even with your dowry – unless he has a profession. His uncle, the Earl of _, has therefore gifted him with a clerical living near Huddersfield, West Yorkshire worth, he informs me, about 500 pounds a year. As well he has the promise of an additional living in the future and support for promotion in the profession."

"A pastor! You would have me marry a clergyman? Are you bereft of all intelligence? How can you expect me to accept such a degradation?"

Miss Bingley's dissatisfaction with her suitor's circumstance, her anger at her perception that she was being treated with cruelty by her nearest relatives, the opinion that she had never given cause for such treatment, and her displeasure that none of her expectations had come to fruition threatened a vituperative outpouring of some duration. Bingley recognized the signs, could sense his wife's tension and unhappiness increasing, and, from past knowledge, realized that his sister's anger was not likely to lessen. He could not allow it to continue for his wife's sake. He stood and placed his face within inches of Caroline's and bellowed, "CEASE!"

She did – shocked – for he had never spoken so to her before.

"This is, given your circumstances, the best that you can expect now. I suppose I could find some poverty stricken peer with an estate mortgaged to a fare-thee-well who might be induced to accept you but it would be for your fortune only and I suspect that, within short order, you and he would be living in reduced and pitiable circumstances. This offer, Mr. Stokes' offer, is respectable, assures you and me that you will live as befits a gentlewoman. His prospects appear excellent and I rather suspect that you will be living more with his titled relatives than at his parsonage. The choice is yours, Caroline. But choose wisely and put those petty prejudices of yours aside. You can no longer afford them. And I will no longer indulge you."

Nelson Stokes was summoned the next day, made his proposal and was speedily accepted. If there was an absence of overwhelming pleasure on the part of either party, it was not remarked upon by those who were later informed of the engagement. The marriage itself occurred with rapidity. Mr. and Mrs. Bingley could not linger overlong in London but agreed to delay their departure for some days to allow for a licence to be obtained, improvements to the bride's wardrobe effected, and to inform such friends and acquaintances of each, as would be invited to attend, of when and where the ceremony was to be held. A little more than a se'nnight after the Darcys were wed, so were Mr. Nelson Stokes and Miss Caroline Bingley. The latter couple travelled to Bath for their wedding trip before returning to Manchester where Mr. Stokes would, within a few months, be ordained and thence to Huddersfield when he took up the duties of a parson. I will draw the curtain on the marriage of these two individuals and forbear to comment on the perspicuity of the bishop who oversaw the ordination of Mr. Stokes.

The day following his sister's wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Bingley were enjoying a leisurely promenade through Hyde Park. It was not the fashionable hour for such endeavours but that bothered them not at all and they had, in fact wandered off the usual path towards an expanse of lawn that appeared to contain numerous couples accompanied by children. The prospect of their own imminent family had drawn them thither and they viewed the activities being enjoyed with no small pleasure in anticipation of doing likewise in the future.

They were strolling quietly, engaged in a discussion of their travel plans, when their attention was claimed by a man's voice which addressed Mr. Bingley who turned to acknowledge the couple approaching them.

"Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, we are pleased to greet you."

Mrs. Bingley looked down at the children who had accompanied the Simmonses and then at Jane. "Will you not introduce me to your children?"

Jane was pleased to do so, and Mrs. Bingley spoke to each of them softly, inquiring into the games they favoured, and complimented the girls on their gowns and hair.

Bingley thought to impart the news of his sister's wedding.

"Mr. Stokes has married Miss Bingley!" Jane tried and failed to hide her surprise. "I would never have thought. . ."

Bingley's response was whimsical, "And he is to become a pastor." His lips twisted in a wry smile.

"A pastor! Mr. Stokes!" Jane gasped, "Surely not!"

Bingley was surprised at her reaction."Why ever not?"

James Simmons was quick to explain, "My wife is only surprised because we had not thought Mr. Stokes to have an interest in the church. But, as we do not know him well at all, it is clear that we have quite misunderstood the matter."

"Have you heard from your sister, Mrs. Simmons?" Asked Bingley.

Jane smiled slightly, "We have not, nor do we expect her to write. We will of course be seeing them soon at Pemberley."

"You are travelling there soon, then?"

"We are" replied James Simmons, "Mrs. Simmons and I, Mr. and Mrs. Fellowes and Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner, along with all our children will be gathering there for a month. It shall be a merry and lively party."

Mrs. Bingley smiled, "I am sure it shall be. I wish you all well but I fear that we must return home for I am suddenly rather fatigued."

The Bingleys made their way back to their carriage. Bingley was considering the meeting with Jane Bennet and had come to the conclusion that his decision not to pursue his interest in Jane Bennet had indeed been correct, that her interest in him had been slight and that he would not necessarily have been happier with her than with the woman he eventually married. Between him and Amanda had grown a solid relationship, one that contented them both and the prospect of children was viewed by his wife and himself with eagerness. He suspected that neither of them would be an overly attentive parent: he, because his business interests were claiming a greater proportion of his time, and she, because of the belief that children were the province of nursemaids and governesses. Although, if her dealings with the Simmonses' children was a reliable precursor of her behaviour with her own, then she could well claim a share of the upbringing. He thought it would be interesting to observe and wondered at his own behaviour should they have a son who would inherit his business. If such were the case, that lad would not be discouraged from understanding his father's business. He would not repeat his own father's mistake.

James Simmons' concern was altogether different.

"Nelson Stokes – a pastor? Your sister will be astounded I am sure."

"He is such a man." Replied Jane, "but we must hope that taking orders will cause him to change his ways. To improve himself. Surely it is possible?"

Her husband chuckled, "I am only sure that you wish it to be so and I am reluctant to disabuse you on the matter. I will say only that it is possible."

"But you do not believe it likely?"

"Do you believe his wife likely to improve her manners?"

Jane grunted. Once the veil through which she had viewed Caroline Bingley had been completely lifted, the basic insincerity of her character was recognized. She had seen or heard nothing in their recent meeting to suggest that she has changed for the better. She shook her head.

"And what of Mr. Bingley"" her husband persisted.

"Mr. Bingley?"

"You thought well of him once, did you not?'

Jane smiled at her husband which, if Bingley had ever seen directed to him, would have caused him to propose at once.

"Mr. Bingley and I are, dear husband of mine, completely indifferent acquaintances. My husband pursued and courted me and won my heart completely. What is Mr. Bingley to me?"

James Simmons smiled and, oblivious to his surroundings, leaned forward and brushed his wife's smiling lips with his own.

 _* Author's Note:A question arose as to whether a clergyman could hold more than one living. It is my understanding that, while not a common practice, it did occur although it invariably required that a Curate be hired (at ~ 100 pds/yr) to provide the services, etc._


	34. Chapter 34

**Chapter 33**

 **Near Southend-on-sea**

The time allotted for their wedding trips was coming to an end. Tomorrow they must leave for Pemberley and, as delightful as that prospect was, when the carriage transported them away from the cottage here in Southend, neither Darcy nor Elizabeth would leave without regret or without their eyes lingering on the place where they had begun forging a marriage. And yet, leave they must. Jane and her husband, and Georgiana and hers, had all left a week ago for Pemberley accompanied by their own children, Darcy's and Elizabeth's, and a host of nursemaids. It had taken a veritable caravan of carriages to accommodate the host of bodies; however, they should all be there by now and awaiting the arrival of Darcy and Elizabeth. It had been a last minute change in plans and one that Elizabeth and Darcy had suggested as neans of shortening the legth they would have travel after leaving Southend. Neither of them had ever been separated from their children for such a prolonged period and both were anticipating the reunion.

Elizabeth and Darcy believed they knew what to expect of the marital bed, having been married before. To say they had both enjoyed relations with their first spouses was an understatement – they found them to be extremely pleasurable and not infrequently exciting. So they had been very much looking forward to their future felicity in that area upon their remarriage. Very much.

The almost frantic coupling that characterized their first few days had eventually moderated, although only slightly; it rarely took more than the most casual caress for one or the other of them to press for even greater intimacy. And yet, it was impossible to spend the whole of their sojourn in Southend in their bed, delightful as that might seem, for the area surrounding the cottage had its own share of delights to be savoured. So leave their bed they did, but when they did the propriety of manners enforced by society when in public seemed to enhance the times when the doors of their bed chamber closed behind them and propriety and their clothing were discarded with equal haste.

They explored the roads and trails in the area on foot and on horseback with no small interest, for the area was new to them both. Darcy's sojourns there were but a distant memory. Several days they rode for hours, sometimes not returning until the sun was near setting. One day they had ventured as far as Chelmsford, stayed overnight at an inn, not returning until late the next day. Another day they ventured into Southend, to browse the shops, to stop to lunch at one of the many inns and to shop for presents for their children. They had only rarely met any of their acquaintance until the evening they chose to attend a play at the local theatre when they were approached by several couples with whom either Elizabeth or Darcy had a small acquaintance. Their marriage had clearly been a surprise to everyone. Felicitations were expressed and most seemed sincere. Invitations to call on them, or to dine, were politely extended and declined in a similar manner. Neither Elizabeth nor Darcy felt any desire for company other than that of their spouse and those they met appeared to accept their preoccupation with each other, albeit with amused looks in some instances and a sense of bemusement, in others. No one felt compelled to call on them, apparently respecting the desire for privacy of the newlyweds, and for such neglect, they were content.

And now tonight was to be the last night of their removal from the press of their daily life that awaited them. Their family's presence, as enjoyable as it would be, would limit the intimacies they would be able to share. And what they had shared. . .was beyond what either had anticipated. Elizabeth had never been importuned so frequently – Anthony had certainly attended to her with vigour but usually no more often than nightly and sometimes in the morning when they slept together. She smiled at her use of the word importuned. That word seemed so very inadequate; there was nothing inadequate about William's attentions or the frequency of them. No…importune was clearly insufficient. Delightful was not the right word either. What was the matter with her? She simply could not describe how Darcy made her feel. All she could be sure of was that she did not wish it to end.

Darcy, meanwhile, was quite astonished at himself. He was not an inexperienced man. Before marrying Judith, he had taken advantage of the opportunities that presented themselves. And he certainly did his duty with Judith. He recalled how surprised she had been to realize that marital relations were not limited to occasional visits at night. But despite how often he did his husbandly duty, and he admitted to himself that it was not a duty and that he did it as often as possible, he had no idea of his actual capability as a husband until now.

Here he was, a man of six and thirty years, suddenly with the virility of a 20 year old. He could not get enough of Elizabeth; not an hour after removing himself from her, his desire could ignite again. Never one to waste an opportunity, he engaged her each time. Not that she minded.

As he closed his eyes in an attempt to get much needed sleep, Darcy felt his wife stroke his back seductively. He sprang to life at her touch and smiled ruefully as he pulled Elizabeth on top of him. Ah well, as they say, there is no rest for the weary. Or was it the wicked? Either way it appeared she wished to have her way with him once again – and a gentleman should never disappoint a lady – it would be. . .ungentlemanly, would it not?

"I will be sorry to leave, William. Very sorry. This has been. . .I do not know when I have been happier." She clasped him firmly with her arms and legs to prevent him leaving and they rested quietly for some moments, silent, hands touching and fondling.

He smiled. "It was the right decision to come here, then?"

"You know it was! Seeking compliments, William? I thought better of you." She smirked at him.

"I am a mere man, my love." He stretched. "I suppose we should get ready to leave."

She was not yet ready to do so and, as she inspected her husband, she suddenly felt an overwhelming desire for him to love her once more. He, however, did not appear quite ready to assist her but that, she thought, she could do something about. Her hand wandered down his body and grasped him. Her lips followed.

"And what are you about, Mrs. Darcy?" He murmured lazily. He rather doubted that she could prove successful but was not about to gainsay her efforts. She paused in her endeavours.

"I was told that a gentleman should rise when a lady approaches. I am a lady and you, sir, appear to require some assistance in. . .rising."

"I have grave doubts as to your success, Mrs. Darcy."

"I do not, sir. I believe I can discover some. . .reserves you were quite unaware of."

She resumed her attentions and much sooner than he had expected, he was ready to satisfy her wishes. Very soon, and with great reluctance, however, they removed themselves from their bed. Neither wished to leave, and having been bathed, fed and clothed, almost two hours had passed before they finally entered their carriage to depart. As they drove away, Elizabeth took a lingering look at their cottage.

"I know we have spoken of returning but I would like us to spend a month here every summer. Our children will adore the place and Jane's family could easily visit us, as well as the Harts and your cousins and their families."

Darcy smiled, "You know I will agree to any scheme of yours, Mrs. Darcy. I would point out that the cottage has only six bedchambers. We could have more than one child in each room but Jane and James, for instance, will require a room of their own."

"Is there any reason the cottage could not be extended or have a wing added on?"

He shook his head, "None."

Her eyebrows rose and she waited patiently.

His response was enthusiastic, "I will have an architect visit the place and provide us with plans. I suspect if we are to expand the cottage, we should look to some other improvements as well."

She wrinkled her nose, "The kitchens could certainly be improved and we will require more servant quarters as well."

"And" he murmured in her ear, "I wish to have the stables enlarged – and perhaps the main rooms as well – and a large bath added to our dressing room."

She leaned away from him, "You speak so enthusiastically of this large bath, sir, that I can barely wait until we arrive at Pemberley to determine if it is as efficacious as you claim."

"I can assure you, madam, that you will indeed 'bare' it and I shall be quite willing, nay eager, to prove my claims."

Elizabeth smiled at his teasing and snuggled closer in the circle of his arms. His hands, which had been taking some small liberties with her person, gradually became less arousing and she was not sorry for it. She was satiated and pleasantly tired and wanted nothing more now than to rest. The carriage, as fine as it was, was not really conducive to sleeping comfortably but it was better to get as much sleep as one could now, before the accumulated aches and discomfort that naturally arose as the trip progressed made sleep more difficult. She began considering the changes to the cottage that might be desirable and before a quarter hour had passed, Darcy could hear the soft snuffling sound she frequently made while asleep. He smiled and relaxed into slumber himself. It was a long way to Pemberley.

 **Derbyshire**

They had entered Derbyshire less than an hour ago. They took the opportuntiy when it became necessary to change horses at a posting station, to refresh themselves , stretch their legs and sample the small basket of edibles prepared for them at the inn where they had spent the night. While they fully expected to arrive at Pemberley by mid-afternoon, they had not tarried in bed, for, as had been quickly obvious the night before, the walls of the inn were lamentably thin. The sounds emanating from the room next to theirs were sufficient to allow for a full understanding of what was transpiring therein, and for a desire to avoid making such a spectacle of themselves.

"We are not the quietest of couples when so engaged, Elizabeth." He whispered.

"I suggest, William, that if you are not to pursue the course your hands are setting, they should cease their efforts, else I shall not be held accountable for my actions."

"Ah, you misunderstood the situation, my dear. It is not my hands that shall be stopped but our lips."

And, capturing her lips with his, and holding them prisoner, he loved her thoroughly until they both had found a shuddering - and quiet - satisfaction. Unfortunately, while their cries of enjoyment were appropriately muffled, the bed provided, unbeknownst to them until they were fully engaged and wholly disinclined to cease their endeavours - its own accompaniment, to their mortification. Thus, while the temptation to linger and enjoy a morning romp, as was their usual wont, had been great, they rose as planned and departed on schedule.

Once they resumed their travel, the proximity to Pemberley and the delightful prospect of rejoining their family and children would not allow for slumber. The scenery was not new to Darcy, but the pleasure of viewing it with Elizabeth was; in addition, there was the enjoyment of describing much of the history or his experiences with what they observed. They were about three hours away from Pemberley when they passed through a small village. It was not a place Darcy could recollect visiting, nor was it a usual stopping spot for he rather thought he had passed through it on countless occasions travelling to and from Pemberley. Nonetheless, it triggered a fleeting sense of recognition or significance, the substance of which eluded him and then, when Elizabeth distracted him with a question, he forgot about it, although his mind continued to worry the matter without any satisfactory resolution.

As they neared Lambton, Elizabeth grew increasingly sombre and Darcy watched as she appeared to withdraw into memories which disturbed her. He finally inquired into her thoughts and, after a few seconds, she answered him.

"I am sorry. I did not mean to worry you. It is just. . .that I had such a vivid memory of driving away from Lambton after receiving Jane's letters and learning what Lydia had done. My aunt and uncle wished to believe that all would be well, that Wickham could not be so bad as to ruin such a young girl. I knew better and. . ."

"And?

"My thoughts were mostly of Lydia and the harm she had done our family, but also a regret that I would never have a chance to amend my misjudgement of you. I did not love you but I had come to understand that you were a better man than I had credited."

They had turned to pass by the lodge that marked the entrance to Pemberley.

"I remember that lodge. I asked Aunt Gardiner how big the park was and could hardly believe it when she said it was ten miles around."

"Are all memories of Pemberley blotted out by your sister's actions?"

Elizabeth shook her head, "Not at all and now that we are traversing the road they are surfacing again. There is a point on the road, is there not, where Pemberley House is magnificently displayed?"

"Indeed there is. We shall stop there for I never return home without refreshing my memory of how beautiful it is and how fortunate I am to have inherited it."

"I had never seen a place so well situated, where man's work and nature had been blended together so effectively."

A burst of laughter escaped her. "I remember saying to my aunt that to be Mistress of Pemberley would be something indeed."

"And now you are!"

"And now I am, indeed."

"Do you remember much from your tour of the house and grounds? I remember you mentioning Mrs. Reynolds but your remembrances of Pemberley is a subject that we somehow failed to canvas."

"Perhaps because they were, for many years, overcast with the unpleasantness that caused our trip to end. I am, as I am sure I have reminded you, inclined to remember those parts of the past that afford me pleasure. In this case, however, I found it difficult to separate Pemberley from Lydia's ruin. But," and her voice firmed, "that shall be the case no more. We shall make new and better memories. I am resolved."

He chuckled and kissed her forehead, "And I know all too well how strong your resolve is, Elizabeth. You will find Pemberley delightful."

"Your housekeeper, Mrs. Reynolds, showed us the house. I was very impressed with the rooms and furnishings." She glanced at him ruefully, "While your letter cleared you of mistreating Wickham and I had concluded you were not altogether responsible for my sister's unhappiness, I still believed you to be a proud, disagreeable man. As a consequence, I anticipated that Pemberley would be much like Rosings Park which I thought ostentatious and gaudily ornate. I was most pleasantly surprised to learn otherwise and I suppose that was a small step to reforming your character in my eyes. You could not be as prideful as your aunt for your house was most excellently outfitted."

"I have always disliked Rosings Park for the very reasons you gave and my aunt never liked Pemberley except for its wealth and consequence. She would have redecorated the house to her standards of what was appropriate for someone of my station, were she in a position to do so." He snorted, "And she was not reluctant to proffer advice as to how I might improve it."

"I can well believe it. She was the acknowledged expert on all matters within her purview."

"So the fact that Pemberley was suitably furnished improved your opinion of me? Did anything else? The size of the library perhaps?"

"Unfortunately, the library could do little to rehabilitate you, my love, as Mrs. Reynolds did not include it in the tour. In truth, it was Mrs. Reynolds who was your champion."

"Mrs. Reynolds? How so?"

"She gave you a most flaming reference, sir. She. . ."

He slapped a hand on his thigh, "Ha! I knew there was a reason I paid her such an excellent wage. Here I had been thinking it was because of her excellent work at managing the house when instead it was her ability to praise and laud my character."

Elizabeth chuckled, "It was honestly done, William, and her affection and respect for you was very evident. And," she added, "what commendation is more to be valued than that of a respectable and intelligent servant. I often thought of Mrs. Reynolds when I came to Oaksley and was pleased that the housekeeper there, Mrs. Turner, was one who I could respect. We became quite close."

"Dare I ask what Mrs. Reynolds said of me?"

"Conceited man!" She cried, "I shall not inflate your pride further. It is already more than I wish to handle."

"Ah, my. . .pride is too much for you, is it?"

"Not yet, sir! Not yet! I take great pleasure from. . .reducing it."

Without their realizing it, the carriage had rolled to a stop at top of a ridge which overlooked the valley below. Their eyes were immediately caught by Pemberley House, situated on the opposite side of the valley And they debarked from the carriage to stand and admire it. He encircled her with his arms as they aged silently on the scene below. However, it was soon apparent that their carriage had been seen, for people were spilling out from the house, rushing hither and yon, and a few were beginning to gather in front of the entrance.

"Do you approve, Mrs. Darcy?" He inquired, smiling at her.

"It is lovely." Elizabeth said as she viewed the house and then she added, in something of an afterthought, "It is exactly as I remember it. Elegant, understated. . .yet so very beautiful. Such a complement to the natural surroundings."

She looked at the gathering assemblage and murmured, "We are expected."

"And we must not delay, Elizabeth, else our children may attempt to run to us."

"I believe I see our sisters and their husbands. We must not tarry."

Elizabeth chuckled as they returned to the carriage. When Darcy inquired as to the cause she was quick to explain.

"I just remembered my first visit." She replied, "I was extremely reluctant to come and only did so when assured that you and your party were not to arrive until the following day."

Suddenly that niggling memory that had bothered him came flooding back in total.

"I was to arrive the next day?" He inquired.

"Yes. So we were informed by Mrs. Reynolds." Her tone was uncertain for his face had paled noticeably. "Whatever is the matter?"

"I was here that day." He said quietly, a look of pain passed fleetingly over his countenance. "I remember it quite clearly actually. Although I was supposed to arrive the next day, business called me back early. I expected to be at Pemberley many hours before the time that I actually got there. My horse had lost a nail and subsequently cast its shoe which delayed my arrival, and I did not get back until that night. Mrs. Reynolds told me about house visitors who visited that day . . .a couple and a young lady who had enquired after me. But I was tired and she could not recall the names. . .and then. . .well. . .events led us down different paths." Darcy looked out the window. "I returned late, too late." He whispered, "For want of a nail. . ."

Elizabeth leaned across and stroked his arm, recalling him to their current joys.

"We are not too late, Mr Darcy. Providence simply had its own plans for us."

"How right you are, my love," and he drew her towards him again.


	35. Chapter 35

**Epilogue**

It is, I gather, an obligation laid upon authors to afford their readers a small glimpse into the future to observe the rewards and punishment that are the fate of us all. We have, after all, come full circle but there remain a number of questions which have yet to be answered and it falls to me to correct the deficiency.

When Elizabeth and Darcy descended from their carriage at Pemberley that day to be greeted by their children and relations it was to start a new chapter in the history of that venerable house. It was a chapter based on love: for the children that each brought to the marriage; for the children that were the produce of their love; for the relations that had nurtured Darcy and Elizabeth for years; and for the friends that each brought to the relationship to make it richer.

It is not to be supposed that the marriage of two passionate individuals possessed of strong tempers but an equally strong love for the other will be one without argument and disputations. Elizabeth and Darcy had their share of disagreement but the attachment between them and the pragmatism with which each was imbued did not allow disharmony to fester and grow. The force of their reconciliations was usually as strong as the the disputes which gave rise to them in the first instance and Elizabeth was convinced that it was just such an argument and resolution which so happily led to her final confinement.

With Georgiana and Henry Fellowes, the Darcys' relationship was as strong as could be expected when separated by almost four hundred miles. Nevertheless, while distance made frequent visits difficult, both couples attempted to coordinate their visits to town In order to enjoy each other's company. Elizabeth did visit Cornwall on several occasions, was re-acquainted with the Fellowes family and she and Darcy were forgiven – after some good-natured chaffing – for cancelling their wedding trip to the area. If distance prevented Georgiana and Elizabeth from becoming as close as either might wish: regular correspondence, such visits as could be arranged and a desire on both their parts to foster a relationship produced a sisterly regard that grew with time.

With Jane and James Simmons, the Darcys were ever close. Simmons' business interests kept him close to London; however, the Simmonses visited with the Darcys at Southend almost every summer for a fortnight, visited Pemberley or Oaksley at Christmas, and could be frequently found dining with them when the Darcys came to town. If the connection to the Darcys assisted Simmons in his business, it was a connection that he did not presume upon and, in so doing, earned Darcy's increased regard.

With Catherine Stevens and her husband, the Darcys were on excellent terms. Captain Stevens was kept at seas too much for frequent contact and their his frequent absences and the size of their family did not facilitate travel. Nonetheless, the two families visited as much as was possible and the Stevens generally found it more convenient to travel to Oaksley when the Darcys were in residence there. The Stevenses had a large brood of healthy children; the sons showing a preference for their father's profession while the daughters were lively, attractive and proper. Catherine's improvement, which had begun under the direction of her two elder sisters, was further enhanced under her husband's firm hand and none of her daughters were ever considered irritable, ignorant or insipid.

The Gardiners, who had gradually become closer and more dear to Elizabeth than her own parents, became equally respected and admired by Darcy. They were frequent visitors to Pemberley and the Darcys always ranked them amongst the dearest.

The fate of Lydia never became known to her family. She disappeared into the stews of London and for all intents and purposes she was never heard from again. If she lived, she made no attempt to communicate her circumstances to them. It may be supposed that her shame for having destroyed the reputation of her family may have prevented any such communication; however, this author is disposed to believe that one so wild, self-centred and reckless would not have been unduly worried by the impact on others of her actions. As Elizabeth was to confide to her husband,"I am convinced that if Lydia were alive, she would by now have approached us for funds to assist her. She was ever imprudent with money and I cannot imagine her alive and not in want."

George Wickham's fate is also unknown beyond the fact that he did arrive in Von Diemen's Land. One might conjecture any number of possible outcomes and this author is of the opinion that while the justice of God might take some time to arrive, it eventually does, and with surety.

Mr. Bennet lived some years at Longbourn under the care of his daughter Mary, and her husband who clerked for Mr. Philips and eventually took over that gentleman's business. Sadly, Mr. Bennet's relationship with his other daughters was never fully repaired, despite efforts by his two eldest, and the loss was felt most keenly by Elizabeth. Following her father's passing, Mary and her husband removed to live with Mrs. Philips and eventually inherited the Philips' home. Several children were born to her and raised with a full appreciation of the scriptures.

Mr. And Mrs. Collins, with a brood of children - amongst which were several boys – eventually took over Longbourn. As the entail died with Mr. Collins (for their was an heir and a spare), the future of their daughters was never in jeopardy. Fortunately, although Mr. Collins was not a sensible man, his wife was, and Longbourn did not suffer unduly as a result of the change in ownership. While the friendship between Elizabeth and Charlotte Collins was never re-established to its former degree of intimacy, it was rebuilt to the extent that the Collinses sought and received guidance from the Darcys. Mr. Collins' eldest son was an active, pragmatic individual and upon reaching his majority took an increasing responsibility for managing the estate. Under his influence and later direction, Longbourn prospered to the benefit of the Collins family.

Darcy and Elizabeth attended Lady Catherine's funeral some ten years after their marriage. Several attempts at reconciliation had been made, but the lady remained obdurate and would not deign to forgive or forget the perceived insult and hurt to herself and her daughter. It is to be supposed that she would have been seriously displeased at their presence when she was laid to rest but neither Elizabeth no Darcy could regret the fact that she could not do so.

Reconciliation between Sebastian Stokes and the Darcys was never even contemplated by either party and, in truth, the connection between the two families remained effectively severed. Sebastian Stokes went to his grave resenting Elizabeth and his brother-in-law, Anthony Waring, for having deprived his family of an inheritance that he had come to believe was the rightful possession of the Stokes family.

Mary and Jonathon Hart did not subscribe to her father's opinion, and although a complete estrangement did not occur, their relationship with her parents remained distant until after her father's death. Her mother, who felt obligated to take her husband's side of the dispute, desired too greatly to know her grandchildren to maintain the separation, and, to a small degree, even effected a reconciliation with her brother's children and their mother.

As to Nelson Stokes and his wife, the former Miss Bingley, fate was not too unkind. He did indeed receive a second living which improved their circumstances and also, through the support of his uncle, the Earl of _, advanced in the church to the position of an Archdeacon. His manners and those of his wife did not recommend themselves to his superiors and further advancement did not occur. They lived in some comfort in Leeds, but, as the society of Leeds could not in any fashion be considered to equal that of London, or that within which the Darcys moved, the couple lived in a state of continual dissatisfaction. Mrs. Nelson Stokes learned, with some dissatisfaction, that her husband was not at all reluctant to avail himself of the pleasure of visiting her bed chamber and would not allow a lock to be fastened on the door of said chamber. Their five children were the natural result of his endeavours and while it would be pleasant to report that the children grew up with opinions that differed markedly from those of their parents, unfortunately such is not possible.

Mr. And Mrs. Bingley enjoyed a reasonably contented marriage and were blessed with three children who turned out about as well as might be expected having parents of a reasonable disposition and sufficient wealth to educate and guide their children properly. Bingley's interest in trade and manufactures continued to grow and he acquired sufficient wealth to purchase an estate but chose instead to expand the manor house he had acquired. His relationship with Darcy improved but never returned to the same familiarity that once existed, although his wife and Elizabeth gradually developed a comfortable ease with one another. As the Darcys spent only a month or two every year in London, correspondence was the main means of maintaining the relationship. The couple were welcomed at Pemberley on several occasions and the Darcys returned the favour by visiting their home in Kent.

The Darcys' first child, Alexander James Darcy, was born almost nine months to the day after their wedding and a second son followed several years later. Elizabeth's third and final confinement produced, to everyone's surprise, a son and a daughter, who were as much like their respective parent as could be imagined. Darcy would never admit to favouring Miss Emma Elizabeth Darcy, but his wife, who knew him best, never doubted it. However, he never stinted in his affections for all his children including David and Jane Waring; and the instruction and guidance he provided David as he grew to manhood was no less thorough than that provided his own sons. When David reached his majority and took over management of Oaksley, he was as ready for that responsibility as it was possible to be. In turn Elizabeth made every effort to ensure that Anthony Waring was not forgotten by either of his children but both grew so close to Darcy as to call him father and think of him as such. Similarly, both Elizabeth and Darcy attempted to keep Judith Darcy's memory alive in her children but as Helen had no such memories to encourage and Ann-Marie's were faint and fading, they both came to regard her as their mother in every particular. As neither parent distinguished the children of their first marriage from those of their second, the children had no cause to do otherwise and while Pemberley often rang with the turmoil of childish confrontations, they were the stuff that would naturally arise from the interaction of eight lively children.

The cottage at Southend was indeed expanded, and expanded again, and the families of their friends and relations could often be found there, singly or together, during the summer. The Darcys celebrated the anniversary of their wedding at Southend every year for over forty years.


End file.
